


Act One: Extenuating Circumstances

by Demia



Series: Mothers of Warring Times [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Child Death, Clones, Crocker Corp, Crockertier, Existential Crisis, F/F, Grimbark, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Morning Sickness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pining, Pregnancy, Relationship Negotiation, Self-Hatred, Skaianet Laboratories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demia/pseuds/Demia
Summary: This is not a heartwarming story about motherhood.* * *Mother Lalonde was a woman with a disgusting amount of effortless class. She had the bruised eyes of depression and countless nights spent awake, and lips like tar and oil. Ashen skin, and she didn’t help it with her all black attire. Her earrings, heavy and large at the sides of her face, were bright pink and jade. The only spot of color to her figure.“I have a request,” she spoke, not giving Jane even the time to poise herself on her appointed chair.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, as usual. Don't know when I will update, but the second chapter is almost done, so it shouldn't be too long.

As the head of CrockerCorp, Jane Crocker had no time to deal with pissant clients and their bullshit.  
Not even when those clients were big name Resistance fighters and requested private time with her. 

Mother Lalonde was a woman with a disgusting amount of effortless class. She had the bruised eyes of depression and countless nights spent awake, and lips like tar and oil. Ashen skin, and she didn’t help it with her all black attire. Her earrings, heavy and large at the sides of her face, were bright pink and jade. The only spot of color to her figure. 

“I have a request,” she spoke, not giving Jane even the time to poise herself on her appointed chair. 

“I supposed.”

“I know you’re uncharacteristically sweet on my daughter,” Lalonde said, and it was an accusation if Jane had ever heard one. But more than that, it was a threat. The lady’s eyes were full of fire.  
Talk about uncharacteristic. 

Jane found it almost easy to deal with Mother Lalonde. Easier than dealing with her sister, for one thing. And easier than dealing with her brothers, undoubtedly.  
The lady was quiet and all knowing. She worked only with planned situations. With situations she knew would go as she wanted, and all Jane had to do was give into her wishes.  
There was no guilt and no blame for doing what a Seer already knew would happen, after all. 

The Condesce couldn’t get angry at her when the actions she took where written in time and space.

“I do like Roxy quite a lot,” she concurred, sitting down under the attentive stare of the lady. 

“I don’t trust you,” Mother Lalonde said, a smirk on her painted lips. She was carrying weapons, Jane knew it from her stance. She was too relaxed for a woman in enemy’s territory.  
It was that, or she had her sniper posted close. Ready to fire. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Our Cherub is just as sweet on my baby as you are. And she is far more… ideologically compatible.” 

“Are you, perchance, offering me your daughter on the basis that I change sides?” Jane asked, her voice lowering, eyes narrowing. As menacing went, Mother Lalonde wasn’t the only one who took a training class, and she wasn’t the one who could pull off a threatening look. “Doesn’t sound ethically solid.”

“I find the fact that you mistook me for an ethically solid person quite hilarious. My babe needs protection, and who better than Crocker herself to grant it?” the woman said, a chuckle covered by her delicate, calloused hand. “You are known for you mercilessness, as well as your protectiveness towards everything you consider your own. I reckon my daughter would thrive under your care. Now more than ever.”

“I had no idea now was a peculiar time,” Jane said, tapping her fingertips on the table. Mother Lalonde scrutinized the gesture. The lady never simply looked at things. She was, after all, a Seer. 

“Time is not my area of expertise, sadly. But I would say she is in great need of… supervision.”

“Supervision,” Jane said, eyebrow arched.  
Roxy Lalonde was many things. Reckless, caring, tactless, lovely. Small and frail and terribly, deliciously vulnerable.  
But Jane would have never described her as a lady in need of supervision.  
Possibly, the best facet of Roxy Lalonde’s person was her independence. 

“One never knows where danger might come from,” Mother Lalonde said, hands on her purse. For a second, Jane thought she was getting her weapons.  
Knitting needles, they were. The purse was big enough for at least a pair of those.  
She summoned her fork, keeping it flat on her lap, lips pursed at the woman, waiting.  
“Oh, stop that,” Lalonde chided, her motherly side coming through the cracks of her facade. Worry wasn’t a good look on her. “I’m just getting ready to leave. I don’t have any intention to hurt you or to cause a scene.”

“I’m a naturally cautious person, Lalonde. And countless have died under the Quills of Echidna.”

“I didn’t bring them. This is, for all it concerns me, a peaceful visit.” The lady’s eyes narrowed, her violet irises almost disappearing under the heavy weight of her tired eyelids and long lashes.

“So you brought your sniper.”

“Of course I did. She wouldn’t have let me come otherwise,” the woman said, a smile so wistful on her lips. Jane wished she had the time to be wistful too.  
The time to sit down and think and mourn the undeniable fact that her family was torn apart. 

The Condesce didn’t like whiners, though, and neither did Jane.  
“Say hello for me, would you?”

“Already did. You’re several steps behind, my dear. Roxy will arrive in the morning. I trust you have a room ready for her.” The woman’s smirk was one of the most irritating things Jane had ever seen, but she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t happy to have Roxy in her care.  
Roxy was… everything Jane wanted. And much more.  
Having her close and supervised at all times was reassuring. One thing less to worry about. 

“Have a nice trip,” Jane said, because politeness, no matter what, was something her father had taught her, and something she wouldn’t give up. Even if she had given up the familial bond they shared. 

Sacrifices had to be made to keep everyone she loved safe, after all. It hurt, but someone had to do it.  
And Jane Crocker was not naive enough to trust someone else to do it as right as she could. 

° ° °

Roxy had Dirk Strider’s stupid glasses on her face.  
The patches of skin Jane could see were blotchy and red, an undertone of ashes and desperation. And she smelled like it too. Ashes and desperation. And the vanilla body spray she had used all her life. 

“Janey,” she greeted, a wave of her hand and the beginning of a tired smile on her unpainted lips.

“Roxy, dear. Welcome. Would you like me to show you your room? You look in great need of a nap,” Jane said, stepping close to the girl but not touching. She had the feeling Roxy wasn’t there willingly, and that she might have lost her touching privileges for going along with this stupid, genius plan. 

“Oh, yeah. Take me to my cell, please. I can’t wait to feel the prison walls closing around me and the last strand of hope leaving my body and my mind in a state of unyielding depression,” Roxy snarked.  
For all she was the sweetest being on earth, she was still part of the Lalonde line. Jane found it weirdly easy to ignore that side of her. Almost convenient.

“I personally took care of the furnishing. It might as well be the best cell you will see in your life,” Jane said, giving the girl a soft smile. “Extremely comfortable.”

“You know to keep me under surveillance, yes? I will try to escape as soon as I’m rested and showered. And maybe after a meal. I do miss your _cuisine_ so.”

“I took it into consideration. And I think it will do you good to lay low for a while. Find the time to relax,” Jane said, trying to spy the girl’s eyes behind the dark lenses on her face.  
Roxy wasn’t one for hiding behind shades. It was not her side of the family’s habit to wear sunglasses. But there must have been a reason for that. Especially considering Dirk Strider’s latest fuck-up. 

Oh, did that boy fuck-up often. If he were one of Jane’s men he would have been killed too long ago, honestly.  
Some people didn’t know how to lead a good group. But then again, what did she expect from the resistance? They were led by a mutant, three mothers, and the director of the stupidest movies ever made. Not exactly top notch masterminds. 

“What did she offer you, Janey? This isn’t your m.o.” Roxy asked, harsh voice made harsher by the start of a cold. 

“Your mother made me realize how much safer you would be in my care. And you know I care about you so much. There’s no better offer than your well-being. Now come, your cell awaits. There’s a marvelous bed and the water pressure is just divine,” Jane said. She was considering a thousand and a half methods to heal a cold. She would make some broth for lunch. Something easy on the stomach, just in case the bug Roxy had gotten was affecting her appetite. 

“You would let me out if you really cared about me, Janey. Let’s not kid ourselves that you’re doing what’s best or some other bullshit, yeah? We’re both smart girls here, and Stockholm syndrome would look ugly on me,” Roxy spat out, her voice caustic even if broken on the beginning of tears. 

“I know that from your perspective this might look bad, but–”

“My perspective?” Roxy interrupted, crossing her arms, possibly to prevent Jane from seeing how much her hands were shaking. Too bad Jane had already noticed. “Ask your fish bitch what she feels about this.”

“The Condesce won’t know you’re here,” Jane said, and it sounded good to her ears, a reassuring promise, but it must have been the wrong thing to say, for some reason, because Roxy’s mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace. 

“So she made you a traitor. She’s good at it, I have to give her that. She made you a traitor, she made herself a traitor, she made Dirk a traitor, she made me a traitor. Who’s next? Will she turn Meenah fucking Peixes into a traitor? Huh? Let’s go home, everyone! Her Imperious Condescension just changed sides! She’s working with the Resistance now! We won!” Roxy rambled, her face getting redder and redder at every word, her voice louder and angrier, her fists more and more clenched. 

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Jane tried, but Roxy just spat at her feet, stomping inside the house and bumping, purposefully, her shoulder against Jane’s. “Where are–”

“To my room!” Roxy snapped, not even letting Jane finish the question. “Fuck you and fuck my mom. And fuck me for not disappearing sooner!”

Well, wasn’t that a good outcome? Jane ran both hands through her hair, heaving a sigh. Time to go back to work. 

* * * 

SkaiaNet had high ceilings and white walls. Jade wasn’t a fan of the hospital-like air of the hallways, nor of the teacher-study feel of the offices, but she loved to bits and pieces the mad-scientist vibe of the lower levels.  
Her luck was meager, and consisted in the possibility of doing whatever the fuck she wanted.  
She was the boss, after all, and she was scary as fuck, as many of her employees took care of reminding her on the daily.  
No one had the balls required to tell her to go to her office and do paperwork. And she was so glad for it. So glad for her position, both in the Network and in the eyes of the Condesce. 

Jane and the stick in her ass might have done a better job than her, but she was the absolute favorite. Not even Feferi ‘ _I’m the rightful Heiress and I have the best puppy eyes fuckers, mom loves me more_ ’ Peixes could dream of getting on Jade’s level. 

And as such, she found it irritatingly weird that Dr. Lalonde demanded a meeting with her. On the surface levels, no less. In Jade’s rightful office. The gall of that woman, really.  
Everyone knew that Jade Harley was a busy bitch. She didn’t have the motherfucking time to be all chummy with one of the faces of the Resistance. 

She kicked the door to her office open, growling at the whines and pleas of her assistant. Fucking pain in the ass fucking weakling. 

When she raised her head, she came face to face with lame shades.  
Oh fan-fucking-tastic.  
The good doctor has brought her legendary piece of shit with her. 

“Yo babe,” D Strider said, finger guns and all. 

“Please,” Jade said, already tired and wanting to go back to her lab. “Set yourself on fire and free usk of your presence.”

“Jade, darling, you’re getting more handsome by the day,” the doctor gushed, her eyes half lidded, her cheeks pink from alcohol. Gods and demons, Jade found her insufferable. “Give us a kiss, lady, because _dayum_ , you’re hot as fuck.”

“No,” Jade spat out, taking her gun out of the holster and pointing it at the woman. “Stay where you are and I won’t have to murder you in cold blood. And get to the fucking point.”

“Dear, the fish bitch doesn’t teach you manners, does she?” D Strider said, leaning his pointy chin on his hand. He looked even more stupid than usual.  
Jade needed a day in the shooting range after this meeting. Maybe even a night out with Meenah.  
She wondered if she could convince the lady to take her shopping. And pay for it. Jade wanted a new rifle. A few really illegal chemicals, too.  
Experimental science wasn’t exactly a cheap business. 

“She taught me to shoot though. Want to see how good I am?”

“Jadey,” the doctor chided, and oh god, was her voice grating on Jade’s nerves. 

“A shot between the eyes, doctor. You won’t even suffer. Promise,” she said, sitting down, the gun on the table, not pointed at her guests but safely in her hand. She could kill them both in less than a second. She was that good. 

“Dogs are supposed to be humans’ best friends, you know?” Strider said. And Jade growled at him. 

“Not this bitch,” she argued. “Go adopt a puppy if you want a best friend. I’ve heard my cousin is a good little dog. And he’s known for his preference for pieces of shit with ugly shades.”

“Don’t diss the shades babe, they’re my trademark,” the man said, smirking at her.  
Jade rubbed her temples. Digging soothing circles in the tender skin and trying one of the breathing exercises Feferi had prescribed her. 

“Why are you here?” she asked, when her heartbeat had gone down to a manageable rate and her anger wasn’t threatening to obfuscate her rationality.  
Since the last experiment she had made on herself her emotions were a fucking mess, but she couldn’t blame science. Not when she was the one to make it happen. 

“We want to give you a gift,” Dr Lalonde slurred, and now she had a tinge of sadness on her face. Strider patted her back and let her lean her head on his shoulder. “A really pretty, really precious gift.”

“Are you crying!?” Jade snapped, her nose picking up the salty scent of desperation coming from the woman, buried underneath the pungent alcohol and flowery perfume. “What the fuck?”

“Babe, have some tact,” Strider chided, tutting at her. Jade was going to kill him slowly. Very, very slowly. “Mom’s an emotional lady.”

“I’m gonna murder the both of you if you don’t come out and say what you want from me.”

“We’re putting Rosie in your care,” Strider said.  
Jade didn’t know if she should have been more surprised of what he said or the fact that, for once in his fucking life, he didn’t lose himself in a bunch of pointless metaphors. 

“No,” Jade said. And now the gun was directed at them, her finger caressing the trigger with decadent desire.

“Oh we know you’re her friend, Jade. Just say yes,” Dr Lalonde said, rolling her eyes. 

“Friend, sure. I’m not her jailer, though. If you want her out of your hands you’ll have to sell her to someone else. Sell her to Feferi, for all I care. She’s so interested in Seers.”

“You’ll take her,” Strider said, all cocky surety. Jade wanted to blow his head up with a good aimed shot of Ahab’s Crosshairs. “You know I know you will. Just get on with the program. You don’t want to create an offshoot timeline, do you? Doomed to die and all…”

“You could be lying,” Jade said, a smirk on her lips. Let the idiots see her fangs, let them get the real picture. Their little baby wasn’t going to be safe in Jade’s hands. Not even if she and Rose had been friends, once upon a time.  
Not even if Jade was still kinda sweet on Rose Lalonde, despite the illogicality of it. 

“Never to you, babe. You look too much like your grandma for me to be able to lie with a straight face, the old lady is fucking terrifying. She pulled my ear last time I lied. And it wasn’t even a good lie. It was just me being funny. So yeah I could be lying, technically, but I’m not, and you will have to trust your sharp dog senses and believe I’m saying the purest motherfucking truth.”

“D,” Dr Lalonde said, poking the man in the side. “You’re rambling, darling.”

“Sucks.”

“A little, yeah.”

“To be you, I meant.”

“Yes, I know dear.”

“I love your pessimism, did I ever tell you? You’re so fucking great. Not like sis. God, she’s such a- a pain in the ass. You’re great. You’re the greatest person in the world, I want you to be my roommate. Fuck everything.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jade barked, slapping her free hand on the table. The two flinched and looked towards her, sheepish expressions on their faces. “Leave this building or God help me I will feast on your corpses.”

“Shit dawg, you’re brutal,” Strider said. 

“Savage,” Lalonde agreed, trying to whistle under her breath, eyes wider and clearer than Jade had ever seen. 

“Go!”

° ° °

“You have a lovely place,” Rose commented, and it wouldn’t have passed for an honest remark even if it had wanted to. Few of the things Rose said were honest. If any.  
Jade knew her too well to fall for something like that. 

“I didn’t agree to you being here. I don’t want you here.”

“Tough luck, huh?” Rose said, patting her shoulder with no less condescension than the Condesce herself. “I don’t suppose you have a guest room, so I will take the couch. I don’t plan to be in your feet for the time of my… stay. So feel free to go on your daily routine without me. I know where the coffee is and I have my laptop. With no internet connection, don’t worry.”

Jade’s secondary set of ears flattened on her skull, and a growl arose in her throat. This house was her territory. Everything had her smell on it, everything had her claim. How dared Rose trespass on it? 

“I like the new look. Dog fashion suits you, Jade,” Rose said, not a crumb of fear in her, no matter how much Jade was trying to threaten her. 

“I don’t want you here,” she repeated, slamming the door closed with a well-placed kick. 

“You already said so, my friend. I don’t wish to be here either, but you know how I am afflicted with the need to obey my mother.”

“Bullshit. Your pseudo-goth ass is the most rebellious piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” Jade snarled.

“You look at my ass often?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m starting to think it’s exactly what you want to do. But I’m afraid I don’t go for furries. Sorry. Bestiality is so not my thing.”  
Jade showed the girl her fangs, and again Rose didn’t cower into submission like she was supposed to. What was wrong with her? Was she fucking suicidal? Jade was more than willing to help with that. 

“You have a hidden motive to be here. I want to know what it is.”

Rose Lalonde…  
Smiled at her.  
Jade cocked her head, ears still down and tense, twitching. 

There must have been something wrong in Rose’s head. Some fear receptor not working quite right.  
No one in their right mind would have so blatantly ignored Jade’s signals. They were so obvious, she was trying hard to make them the most obvious possible.  
And still.  
Still!

Rose smiled at her. 

“You reckon I haven’t changed at all since the time we were friends, do you?” Rose asked, for some reason smug and confident. “You’re so wrong, Jade. So, so wrong. Can’t a girl just want to spend some quality time with her childhood bestie?”

“Not a Lalonde. Not you.”

“Harsh, Jade. You wound me.” Snark. That was familiar. Jade remembered… a lot of their friendship. And she remembered the snark best of all. Rose was a fucking mistress of it. 

“You always have a hidden motive. An objective. I know that much about your ilk,” Jade said. A twinkle of misplaced glee lit up Rose’s eyes. And that was the last straw. That was what made Jade storm out. Rose Lalonde was still as insufferable as the day they parted ways.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was practically done yesterday, and that's why I can update this so soon. Don't expect the next updates to come as quickly.  
> This is kinda long, I think all chapters will be 5k or more from now on. I can't ever be satisfied of the endings so i keep milking the creative juices until the chapters are too long to edit comfortably. Still unbeta'd, you're welcome to point out any mistakes you find :)

Kanaya gulped down the uneasiness, the fear, the panicky embarrassment.  
The Dolorosa was not only her Ancestor, but also her role model, and her life goal. She was imposing but warm, stylish but favored simple clothes, harsh voiced but soft-spoken. She was everything Kanaya aspired to be. Pitch skin and long horns and a poise to make the gods jealous. 

“Yes, my child?” she asked, a beautiful smile lightening her sharp features.  
Kanaya gulped again. Dared she speak? Her voice might come out raucous from the little use she had made of it in the last few days. 

It might come out stammering. Dared she stammer and make a fool of herself in front of the Dolorosa herself?  
Her idol? 

For Rose, she dared.  
“Have you, perhaps, seen my matesprit?” she asked, and she did not stammer, but her voice was indeed raspy and misused.  
She didn’t have many conversation partners, outside of Rose, and her matesprit had been nowhere to be found for days. 

Just thinking about it brought terror upon Kanaya’s thoughts. 

The Dolorosa (call me Porrim, she had told Kanaya, but she dared not) sighed softly, giving Kanaya a look.  
A _look_.  
A glance of platonic pity, the same kind the humans were used to give out like candy. A sort of display of maternal affection, Kanaya supposed. The Dolorosa was known for mothering everyone and everything. She had it in her heart.  
“I have news to break to you, my child. Not the pleasing kind, I’m afraid.”

Kanaya nodded before the meaning of the woman’s words settled in, and when it did, so did the fear. The mind-blowing panic.  
Bad news, regarding Rose’s whereabouts. 

No. No, she couldn’t be…  
Rose was strong. She was a Seer. She would have said something if she was about to– to…  
but would have she? Rose was a pro at hiding things that hurt. Things too difficult to talk about.  
At preserving Kanaya’s happiness… No, it couldn’t be. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Kanaya, no, she isn’t dead, I formulated that sentence in the wrongest way. I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry,” the Dolorosa cooed, dabbing Kanaya’s cheeks with the hem of her sleeve. She was making the same sounds Kanaya’s lusus used to make whenever she was upset as a wriggler. “She is just… under protection. For the time being. Her mother and secondary lusii decided that it would have been better to put her and her hatchmate under stricter protection, considered the conditions they’re in. Humans are really fragile creatures, my dear. You know it’s for the best of them and their grublings.”

“I– Yes, I understand, but… Where is she? Can I see her? I’m not a danger to the grubling, I promise,” Kanaya said, pleaded.  
The Dolorosa caressed her cheek, her hand was lukewarm, bigger than Kanaya’s face, and so soft and comfortable. 

“Your love for them is admirable, Kanaya. But sometimes we must let the people we love do things that worry us.”

Disagreeing with the Dolorosa was… hard. Almost blasphemous.  
And still, Rose was more important. Kanaya was getting more and more anxious to know where she was. “I’m not going to take her back here. If she’s in a safe place I want her to stay there. But I want to see her.” And she wanted to be there for the grubling’s growth. Rose had told her it was a long and difficult process. Kanaya didn’t want to miss any second of it. She had not only promised to be there for the entire journey that was human pregnancy, but she also _wanted_ to be there.  
The grubling was just as much hers as it (they?) was Rose’s. 

“I am saddened to tell you this, my child, but I must,” the Dolorosa started, and again she gave Kanaya that pitiful look. “You can’t go to her.”

° ° °

People had the ugly tendency to underestimate Kanaya.  
She pursed her lips, correcting the line of her lipstick. Perfect. She was perfect. And her low self-esteem could go fuck itself, she was going to call herself perfect all she wanted. Or at the very least her make-up. 

“Why not jade tonight?” Aradia asked, her voice still slurred from their jam session, sleepy and warm.  
Kanaya stole a look at her back, where her moirail was sprawled on the pillow pile, languorous and placated. Kanaya didn’t feel placated in the least, but she knew Aradia would help with that, if only she opened up about it.  
Moirallegiance was… a work in progress. She was fine taking care of other people. She was so fine, in fact, that many had given her the “thanks but no thanks” talk even when Kanaya wasn’t interested in them. Simply because she tended to come across as extremely tender and care-taking.  
What she wasn’t fine with was accepting the care of someone else. Even with Rose she had a lot of difficulties opening up and letting the human into her mind. 

“I’m not feeling particularly colorful,” Kanaya said. Her dress, too, was black. Maybe she was subconsciously trying to emulate human mourning, or maybe she was simply trying a new style.

“Why don’t you come back here? We still have some time before you leave,” Aradia offered, a sultry, serendipitous smile on her unpainted lips. 

“I have promised Calliope I would talk to her about what we’re going to do, darling. I’m sorry.”

“No worries!” Aradia said, eyes very bright. She was… joyful. Exceptionally so. Kanaya found it kind of hard to share that level of joy and tranquility, and not only because her time in the pile was usually wasted in hugging a pillow and refusing Aradia’s wishes to touch her. “Would you like me to come with you? It could be a date!”

“Uh–” Kanaya stammered, cheeks warming up at the thought. A date. Like in Karkat’s silly novels. A conciliatory, pale date, where Aradia papped her to complete relaxation when the antagonist proved to be a spark for her anger.  
Oh, that sounded disgustingly romantic. And kind of indecent, too. The kind of thought a touch starved, pale-porn addict could entertain. And Kanaya might have been touch starved but she had never looked at one single porn in her life. 

“You can say no!” Aradia assured, and her smile widened, became clearer. The conciliation effect was dying down and she regained her presence of thought one neuron at a time.

“Ah, no. I would like it,” Kanaya said, nodding to herself and looking at her reflection one last time to make sure every single stroke of her make-up was, indeed, perfect.  
It was. “Do you require time to get ready?”

“Lol,” Aradia said, and she was standing next to Kanaya, impeccable in her burgundy tunic and tied up hair. She wore Kanaya’s sign in black on her collar, and a jade diamond fell around her throat on a silver chain. “You’re cute.”

“Oh, ha ha ha,” Kanaya deadpanned, giving her moirail a scathing look, not entirely serious, not entirely joking. Aradia patted her back and placed a smooching kiss on her cheek. Undoubtedly there was a rust colored mouth-shape on her cheekbone now. Kanaya didn’t mind as much as she had thought she would. 

° ° °

Calliope was in a state that Kanaya might have defined as messy, were she feeling merciful.  
She had none of her usual poise. Neither her Muse dress nor her much more common suit clothed her, but instead she wore a ratty pajama, some specks of undefinable matter splattered on her shirt – which Kanaya was pretty sure she had seen Roxy wearing on more than one occasion – and holes in her long, baggy pants. They were a hideous shade of bright pink. Roxy’s property, no doubt.  
Kanaya suddenly regretted wasting time to get properly dressed. 

“We had a meeting,” Calliope slurred, nodding slowly to herself. She rubbed a hand on her eyes, her weird vertical lids blinking. It was… something to get acquainted to, their Cherub. But maybe not as much for them Trolls as it was for the humans.  
There was something, in Calliope, that reminded Kanaya of her mother. Some kind of weird, bone level recognition of similar gestures.  
Except, Kanaya’s mother had been an insect-like creature and the Cherubs were reptiles-like. Slither-beasts, as Aradia would say.  
She had spent so much time in Rose’s company that she had forgotten how to speak like a proper midblood Troll. What a shame.

“Sorry for…” Calliope gestured at herself, a self-deprecating smile on her bizarre unlipped mouth. She lacked many things that Kanaya considered fundamental for a face. A nose. Eyebrows, lashes, lips, ears. She was… a green egg. But not quite. She was strange in an endearing way. “My state. I’m afraid my lover’s absence has had a worse impact on me than I could have predicted.”

“On us too,” Aradia reassured. Kanaya bristled a little, inside. She knew it was proper, textbook moirail behavior to say things like that. To answer for your palemate when they were all harsh and feeling unwell. But Kanaya was not at all used to being taken care of. That was a preestablished condition. “Rose is kind of fundamental for our well-being.”

But it wasn’t true, was it? Aradia didn’t need Rose for her well-being. Rose was just an inclade for her, not a quadrant, barely a friend. They might have exchanged five words in total, in all the time Kanaya had forced them to spend time in the same room.  
And still, Aradia was choosing to… share the pain? Lie? Kanaya had no idea what she was doing, to be quite honest. She had to ask her. She needed to understand this. 

“Yeah, I would think. I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I so wish the adults asked for our input on the matter,” Calliope said, wistful and sad and longing for Roxy. Kanaya could relate so, so well to the hidden bitterness. It was no good to speak evil of the adults. It could as well be considered treason. But the rage was undeniably there. Seeping under her skin, digging roots in her bloodstream, trying to blossom through her chitin.  
How dared they take away the one single thing that made Kanaya’s life worth living.  
How dared they take away her grubling and her matesprit. 

“How are you feeling?” Aradia asked, and for one brilliant, furious red moment, Kanaya burned in jealousy. But no, Aradia wasn’t cheating. She was just worried for a friend, not washing pale for Calliope. There was a difference.  
There was a very big, obvious difference that Kanaya had difficulty seeing, sometimes. 

She wasn’t offering a good pale outlet for her moirail, though. She wasn’t… she wasn’t being a good palemate at all. She was a mess and not one who could be taken care of because she refused to be coddled, and helped, and she absolutely abhorred the idea of talking about her problems.  
If Aradia were to cheat on her… Gods, it would hurt like fuck. But Kanaya would understand her perfectly, and she would accept the blame of it. 

“Not my best moment, that’s for sure, but I’m getting by. You?”

“We’re… dealing,” Aradia said, throwing a look in Kanaya’s direction. There was softness in her rusty eyes, a love immense, cultivated through the years. Kanaya hadn’t been the most observant troll, focused as she was on her flushed feelings and her terror of never fitting in her society’s perfectly cut romance grid.  
She had spent a good share of her years thinking she would never manage to snatch herself a palemate or a functional club that lasted more than a day, or a kismesis. She had thought she couldn’t feel those things at all.  
And then Aradia came, and she brought a proposition with her, and endless patience, and sweetness all over, and a love so pale and so warm as to melt stars.  
“Aren’t we, babe?”

“Sure,” Kanaya said, a lump in her throat. She wasn’t dealing for shit, Rose was her fated matesprit, her fucking soulmate, and she was carrying their child. She wasn’t dealing at all with having her hidden away and too far and unreachable. 

“We were planning our–” Calliope started, she got choked up, a terrible kind of sound, like she was retching and dying and howling all at once. “It’s mightly unfair.”

“She’s not dead,” Aradia said, and somehow she was holding Kanaya’s hand. Had she sensed the trembling running trough her body? Did she possess other psychic powers than hearing the newly departed and telekinesis?  
“We’ll find them, Callie. Don’t worry too hard.”

“A bit difficult, dear. They took her away in the middle of the night and all. I feel like the lame protagonist of a bad action movie, to be truthful.”

“Relatable,” Kanaya murmured, the first thing of some relevance she had said since arriving. Calliope gave her a small smile, the reason undetermined. 

“We went to speak to the Dolorosa,” Aradia said, and again she said we. She was such a… such a good moirail. Why couldn't Kanaya be at least decent for her? It was so unfair. Unfortunate for all the parties involved. Aradia deserved much better than someone who couldn't even hold up their part of the deal. And Kanaya… Kanaya was tired of feeling underqualified for things. She wasn't made for Moirallegiance.  
It was so fucking obvious. 

She was a simple, Matespritship-only kinda person. She should have refused Aradia's proposition. She should have been better than this. Better than forcing a good friend of hers into an unsatisfying relationship. 

But no, she was a sick, needy, attention-starved troll. And she wanted to have a moirail that took care of her.

“Oh? What did she say?” Calliope asked, her shoulders slumped down but her eyes clear and burning. Kanaya knew how she was feeling. She knew very close and personal. 

“Nothing explicitly helpful. But she did say they are both safe. And so are the grublings. Children. And that the Lalonde-Strider adults are behind it, of course. But we could have surmised that all our own.” There was some kind of… saltiness in Aradia's voice whenever she spoke of Kanaya's Ancestor. Some kind of anger, not passionate or anything, just… there. 

Kanaya didn't know where or why or when it was born, nor had she ever considered asking about it in the pile. It was kind of frowned upon, manipulative in a way, to ask things your palemate had never talked about when sober while they were under, and Kanaya wanted to be as good as she could be. 

“That's… a relief. I guess. I do care about their well-being, of course. But I would like it more if they were here with us. Or if they had taken us with them. Who better than us to protect them?”

“Exactly what we think, too,” Aradia said, soothing even if completely, absolutely, in no way at all pale.  
Kanaya breathed deeply, the air muddy with centuries of rain and rotten walls. The headquarters weren't the best place she had lived in, but she had seen worse, too. Much, much worse.  
“Babe?” Aradia whispered, so soft Kanaya was sure Calliope couldn't hear, no matter how close she was. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she reassured, but Aradia was not reassured in the least. She looked worried, and a worried Aradia meant long hours in the pile, usually. And Kanaya kind of loved the pile, kind of hated it too, for it made her realize how shitty a palemate she was. 

“We should raincheck this meeting. We're obviously not in the conditions to deal with this, yet. None of us. Let's meet… say, two nights from now? Would it be agreeable for you?” she said, not even caring about the disapproving sounds Kanaya was making. She was being her usual commanding persona and there was no way to sway her. 

“Oh, it would be a blessing, dear. I'm not equipped for thinking right now,” Calliope said, letting out a long, suffering sigh. She twisted the hem of her shirt into her fists, there were tears slipping out of her eyes, and Kanaya was terrified and intrigued both at seeing how a Cherub cried. Fucking weird creatures. Lovely, too. And so small, compared to trolls.  
Or maybe it was just that Calliope wasn't yet an adult, for the standard of her species. Eleven sweeps and she still had double that to go before she became a proper adult.  
Maybe she was so small because she was young. Maybe she would grow into a monstrous being, like the legends narrated. As big as a galaxy whole. 

“We neither. Do you need anything before we leave? You're here alone and, you know, we worry about you.”

Calliope made a small o with her mouth, cheeks darkening. It was creepy how she blushed. Made Kanaya wonder about her vascular system. And she wasn't so keen on thinking about other people's veins and stuff. Like, in general. “Don't you worry about me, loves. I'll be fine. As much as I can be, at least. Go do your things, please. I will live.”

Aradia muttered something that sounded a lot like “kay, cool” and stared dragging Kanaya back to her – their? – room by the hand she was still holding on tight.

“Do you even have time for a jam?” Kanaya asked, a bit out of breath. But only a bit. Aradia was much shorter than her, and a lot chubbier, but she was fast as fuck when she wanted to be. Almost… almost flash-stepping fast. 

“Time is my bitch, babe. I can jam with you for as long as we want and be on time for my appointment. Don't worry, okay? You come first. Always.”

It was sweet in a way that made Kanaya's cheeks warm and her skin bright. She still had trouble controlling the light when strong emotions washed through her. Emotions like embarrassment and love and pity and… and a lot of other things that Aradia made her feel. And Rose, too. Rose was the one who could make Kanaya shine for hours while doing nothing but murmur soft thing half-slurred and misty with sleep.  
Gods, she missed Rose so much. It hurt so much. She wanted her matesprit so, so, so much. 

“It will be okay, Kan,” Aradia murmured, and she was suddenly so close to her, so solid and present and there. She was almost flushed to Kanaya head to toe, but she wasn't touching any single part of her. Her bare presence was enough to make Kanaya feel like she was cuddled up in the warmest, fluffiest blanket ever. It felt like home and safety and a… something. Something Kanaya had never known in her life. Something like surety of love, like a promise that she would be always welcome and cherished and loved. Every single piece of her would always be held in the highest regards. 

It felt good. 

“I know… it's just hard. It's really, really hard. And scary,” Kanaya whispered, and as soon as the words were out she wanted them back, she wanted the heartbroken, pitying stare Aradia was giving her off her moirail's face. 

“Let me take you under, babe,” Aradia murmured, fingertips caressing Kanaya's throat, her nails scratching at the skin but never breaking it, never, ever, ever drawing blood. “I'll go slow, and you can say stop whenever you want.”

“And you will stop?”

“Immediately. I promise. You don't have to do it, of course, but it would do you so much good to let me take care of everything for a bit. Soothe you down properly.” Aradia had a dreamy, burning, desperate look in her eyes. And Kanaya would have given her everything to make her happy. She would have done anything in that moment. Yes, even giving up her control. For a little bit, at least. 

They were silent as they finished crossing the headquarters to reach their room. Kanaya in fear and self doubt and Aradia in bubbling anticipation.  
And when they joined each other on the pile, all dressed up and uncomfortable and stiff – Kanaya was stiff, Aradia wasn't, she never was – Aradia set up the pillows in a comfortable little not-quite-bed, and patted it until Kanaya settled down on top of it. 

It was… soft. And it smelled like her moirail, and faintly like the perfume Rose used, and Kanaya had already tears in her eyes even if Aradia hadn't even touched her, yet. 

It was a bit of everything, sensations, memories, scents with familiarity to them, the entire mood of the room was of a jam about to happen. And she was kind of not really ready, but also very much impatient for it to begin.  
How could she not be, when her girlfriend was looking at her like she was the most pitiable creature she had ever seen?

“You okay?” Aradia murmured, soft, softest voice she had ever used on Kanaya, soft like satin and silk. Soft like Rose's skin. 

“Yes.”

“Alright.” And Kanaya's eyes were closed but she could feel the smile in her moirail's voice, the love, the pity. She was… safe. Truly safe. 

* * *

Shedding was truly a messy affair, Calliope thought, forcing her limbs to work as she was preparing herself a nest. The tub was already filled with warm water, and her plans for the night were all set out. A nice bath, a nice night of sleep, and in the morning a nice hour peeling away dead skin from her body.  
Not exactly Calliope’s idea of fun times, but she didn’t have a choice. Or, well, her choice was to skip everything and suffer as the old skin became too hard to peel away easily and then she would have so many little cuts and wounds to disinfect. 

And maybe she was feeling bad, maybe she thought she deserved the pain after being so stupid as to not pay attention to Roxy, but she hated the sting of disinfectant on her scales. And she didn’t hate herself that much, yet. But loneliness had a way to make one despise themself. Calliope had seen it in all her friends. The lost and the found again both. 

There came the nightly knock at her door. Calliope sighed and called out to enter, for her legs didn’t want to cooperate at all, and all she really wanted was to curl up around Roxy and sleep off the shedding altogether. 

“Hey-o,” Dave said, his voice even quieter than usual. “How you doing?”

“I’ll survive,” Calliope told him, inviting him with a gesture to sit at the table. She would have invited him in the nest, had they had the occasion to become closer friends. Maybe in the future. “Is it lights out time already?”

“In an hour. Mom sent me to do the nightly rounds.”

“I see. How do you like it?”

“Eh, I’ve already seen much more than I would have wanted to, but it’s okay. Mea culpa for not knocking loud enough, I guess. But I get the chance to come here, so…”

“So?”

“So, Roxy asked me to check on you. Kind of,” Dave said, bothering his lower lip. “It’s not like it’s comparable to your pain or anything, but I did lose three siblings out of three yesterday, so I can, kind of… understand, I guess. What you’re feeling. And it sucks, but we have to stick together. Naya and Radia and you and me, you know?”

“I…” Calliope took a second to analyze what Dave had said. The boy liked to use many words to mean very little. “Roxy asked you to check on me? She knew this would happen?”

“Yes. No. Rose knew this would happen. And she told us, so Roxy asked me to… umm, make sure you don’t do anything stupid like taking off the ring of life or, yeah. The S word. And Rose wants me to keep an eye on her girls, too, of course. You would have gotten a slice of DirkCareTM, but he is sadly unavailable, at the moment. The only Strider in the house who isn’t a complete piece of shit is me.”

“Dirk is unavailable?” It was true she hadn’t seen him for a while, but it was common enough for him.

“Yeah. He… left. Betrayed, whatever. Joined English. The Lord, not the kid. Like, one hour before my sisters got taken away, actually. No one outside the family and the big leaders know anything, so please, keep it quiet. And if anyone asks, just say he’s out on a mission.”

“Like your boy?” Calliope asked, letting herself fall down in her nest, her breath gone, punched out of her chest. Dirk left. Dirk betrayed. Dirk went to her brother. She always suspected he liked Caliborn better than he liked her, but getting tangible proof was… painful. Incredibly so. 

“Yeah, but no. Karkat is one of ours. Full Resistance. He just… likes solo missions. It’s all. He wouldn’t betray us.”

“I wonder how many people thought the same of your brother?” Calliope said, and she saw the doubt make its way in Dave’s eyes. He furrowed his brow, twisted his mouth. 

“Karkat is one of ours,” he repeated, getting up and looking at her one last time. “Sleep well, Callie. Call me if you need anything. Don’t do anything stupid. Bye.”

“Good night, Dave.”  
The door closed and Calliope stared at the ceiling. Forty minutes til lights out, give or take.  
It was enough for a bath. Enough for… enough…  
Her lids closed. In her dreams, Roxy was calling her name. 

° ° °

The circle was flawless, white chalk on black velvet, like any Space Hero with some self respect would choose. Calliope looked at Kanaya, sitting exactly in front of her. Space was important for Space invocation. Ignoring precise instruction from their shared Aspect was like spitting in its face and then demanding it worked with them anyway. 

And then she looked at Kanaya’s moirail. Aradia Megido was a girl with eyes too sharp and ears that could hear the dead. Had she heard Calliope’s voice, once upon a time? Begging her friends to let her go, to stop wasting time to fix what was unfixable?  
Had Aradia heard her cries of joy when she had seen Roxy holding the ring of life? 

The girl looked back at her, giving a terrifying smile. Her teeth were dull, but there were too many all the same, and the smile split her lovely face open in two. 

“Explain to me again,” Kanaya started, tapping her perfect nails on the velvet, “How are we doing this?”

“We need to wait for Nepeta, first,” Calliope said, “and then I’ll explain.”  
As far as Heart Heroes went, she would have much preferred to work with Dirk. She didn’t mind Nepeta, not at all, the girl was lovely, and fun to roleplay with, and incredibly good at introspection, but Calliope had a connection with Dirk, and he had a connection with the people they were looking for. It would have been so much better with him.  
Then again, Dirk was a Prince, and Nepeta a Rouge. Finding people would come easier to her than it would ever be for him. 

“Wouldn’t the Disciple be our best option?” Aradia asked. “She’s a Mage.”

“She is also the closest thing to a feral we can come across without dying,” Kanaya muttered. “If you feel exceptionally brave, you could go and ask her to participate in this little experiment of ours, dear.”

“She isn’t so bad!” Aradia said, laughter hidden in her voice. Calliope envied and despised – a little – that joyful attitude she had. It was brilliant and marvelous and completely incomprehensible. “She’s just a little socially inept, but a lot of us are! Nep, Zahhak, Karkat, me, now that I think about it, probably all of us are socially inept.”

“Comes with the territory of growing up in a murderous society,” Kanaya said, one eyebrow raised. 

“Improbable. Have you seen your matesprit? Or her brother? They didn’t grow up on Alternia.”

“No, but neither of them had a pleasant home situation, so you could argue that they did grow up on battlegrounds.”

As Aradia was preparing to answer, the door opened. Light reflected on the velvet, making it shimmer and shine.  
“Sorry fur being late,” Nepeta stage whispered. She closed the door with too much softness, fighting to get it to properly shut without making any unnecessary noise, and she sat on the latest point of the velvet square.

“We haven’t been waiting for long,” Kanaya reassured. Her voice was stiff, now. Uncomfortable. 

“Oh, good! What are we doing, then?” Nepeta asked, running her fingers on the velvet, almost-goosebumps raising on her skin. 

“I will tune into Space and ask it to work with us,” Calliope started explaining, looking in turn to Kanaya and Nepeta. But not Aradia. Aradia was there to help them not fall too much into Space and lose their grounding. “When Space is here, you–” she stopped her eyes on Nepeta and waited for her nod “– will search for Rose’s and Roxy’s soul wavelenghts. When you pinpoint them, Kanaya will use her Sylph abilities to create a path from us to them.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to do it,” Kanaya said, eyes to the ground, cheeks paler than usual. 

“Kanyanya, have some faith in purrself!” Nepeta chided, scrunching up her nose. Calliope hoped it was because she realized how cringey her puns were. 

“I beg you, don’t ever call me Kanyanya again,” Kanaya pleaded, but there was the beginning of a smile on her painted lips.

“Yeah, I realized how awful it sounds as soon as I said it, I apologize.”

“It’s alright.”

“But still, you should have some faith in yourself,” Nepeta repeated. 

“Seconded,” Aradia said, leaning towards her moirail to pat her thigh. “Just do what you feel is right. There’s no cheat-sheet on how to tune in in your hero powers, but if you follow your heart you should succeed.”

“Okay,” Kanaya sighed, running a hand through her short hair. “I will try. For Rose.”


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this but... I wanted to post it or I would have started it from the beginning once again.  
> Still unbeta'd.

One: Jane’s house was lovely. Carpets and curtains were all in hues of light blue and complimented the cream walls and wooden floors. All in all, it looked like a doll house and Roxy was the porcelain beauty stuck inside. 

Two: Jane was a darling jailer, but a jailer nonetheless. Roxy had been toeing the line of love for the woman for long years, and it hurt being her prisoner. Her kindness hurt, her temper, when it surfaced, hurt more. 

Three: Peixes junior was staring at her like a hawk. 

Regarding Feferi Peixes: she was a kid with too much hair, too much teeth, and fuchsia eyes. She had a thing for Seers of all Aspects, and was the most spoiled being in the entire universe. She was also a really pretty girl.  
Roxy had heard horror stories about her mindless cruelty and wide-eyed innocence. 

“We match,” she exclaimed, her voice a chiming bell and bursting bubbles.

“Like fuck we do,” Roxy spat at her. Her own eyes, weird as they were, had brightness to them. Nothing of the muddy tones the majority of trolls had. Her hair was blonde, her skin… well, it was actual skin and not chitinous exoskeleton, for one thing. And it was a warmer color, for another. 

“We’re both cute gals with a pink fixation!” Feferi said, giving a big grin full of needles.

“Oh God no, don’t flirt with me. That’s disgusting. Why would you say something like that? Euch,” Roxy whined. She almost wished Jane came back soon. But then again, maybe she favored Feferi’s presence. The heiress, at least, she had no conflicting emotions for.  
It was something of a miracle, lately, to find something she wasn’t conflicted about. 

Spending time with her siblings, maybe. Rose and Dave, surely. Dirk… Dirk was another matter. A matter she didn’t want to think about, thank you very much.

“You smell like you’re about to cry,” Feferi said, and God, for a creature with no visible nose her sense of smell was damn good. 

“I am,” Roxy said, sloshing the iced mint-milk in her hand.  
She wondered what Jane would say if she smashed the glass on the wall. Or in Feferi’s face. Or anywhere, honestly. She wanted to destroy something. The crash would be so comforting. So… pacifying. 

“Is that okay?” Jane asked. She was standing right in front of Roxy, looking at her with a strange light in her eyes, a weird twisting of her face. When did she arrive?

“Amenable. I guess. What would you do if I smashed the glass? Like, anywhere. Somewhere? Would you be mad?” Roxy asked. She felt a few miles removed from reality. Void? Or simple disassociation? Who knew? She for sure didn’t. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Jane asked. A few years prior, Roxy would have loved that tone with no regards. She would have loved Jane in her entirety with no regards, too. A few years prior they were kids. Teenagers. No responsibilities had been on their shoulders then. There had been no war. Not officially, at least. No war that had wanted them to fight. No parents slash troll queens slash ancestors slash guardians (or ectobiological clones) to want them as soldiers. 

A few years prior, Jane had simply been the cute girl who worked in a bakery down in Washington and chatted with her on pesterchum, her father a charming businessman who sometimes the older Roxy pined after. Nothing more. And Roxy, herself, the younger, the clone (not the first, though, was she? She was just the latest of a long line, wasn’t she? She wasn’t unique, she wasn’t anything, she wasn’t important. Or irreplaceable. Or _anything_ at all, was she?) she… she lost the thread of her own thoughts. 

Jane was looking at her. Her full mouth thinned in a line of concern.  
“Have I told you to fuck off yet? Like, in the last hour?” she asked. Always put up a strong front. Always attack first. But for the old Roxy it was easy to say something like that. To teach something like that. She had rifles on her person at all times. And her brain was more vodka than gray matter. 

“Not yet, no. I think it’s been three whole hours since the last fuck off. Would you like to tell me now?” Jane asked, the smartass she was. Roxy couldn’t help but find her attractive. It was such a pity she was the fucking heiress of CrockerCorp.

“No. You’re expecting it, now. Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Do you require any kind of medical attention?” Jane asked, stepping forward, hands raised in that way that meant she was ready to catch Roxy were she to fall. Or maybe to restrain her arms. Ha, she could place a mean kick, too. Fists weren’t her only form of attack. 

“Not right now. Scoot back, Janey. I don’t want your evil cooties all over me. Where’s junior fish? Fish junior? Fuck, that doesn’t sound good either. Feferi it is then. Until I find something meaner.” 

“At work, I would hope. Are you sure you don’t require medical assistance?”

“Unless her job is to look after me while you cook or whatever…”

“Roxy, sweetheart… she wasn’t here. Feferi doesn’t ever set foot in my house. Not ever. Well, she helped me move in but that’s it. She has never been here since then.”

“It… it _was _weird. I should have suspected she wasn’t real,” Roxy mumbled, crossing her arms on her chest. And spilling all the milk on her clean (kinda) shirt.  
Shit. __

____

“Oh dear, let me help you,” Jane fretted, kneeling down to pick up… something? Oh, those were the pieces of her glass. Her used-to-be-glass. Shit was it broken?  
Why didn’t she feel pacified from that?  
“You're scaring me a little, sweetheart. It's not like you to be like this.”

“I think,” Roxy murmured, scratching the back of her head, looking down at Jane, kneeling in front of her, staring upwards as if in prayer. “I think I’m going back to bed. I’m really tired.” 

“Of course. I’ll take you to your room,” Jane said, getting up from the floor. Her left knee was bloody, and she didn’t seem to care. Or to feel the pain at all. Jane was weird. 

° ° °

Her room was awfully dark, awfully quiet. She didn’t remember it being like this. This damp hole in the ground. It was more and more like the prison she felt herself stuck into. 

Cold, dark, empty and tiny. It was the nearest Roxy had been to her Aspect in all the years she had been alive.  
Void would have been a doting mother to her. She had been told this so many times. Older Roxy had told her to let the Void be a part of her heart, to not force it, to never force their union, and Roxy hadn’t. She hadn’t done anything to facilitate their bond. She had simply lived her pre-scripted life one step or two or a jump at a time. 

She wasn’t a new person, not even close. Everything she could do to rebel had already been done. Everything she could try to escape the mold had already been tried. Everything she wanted and needed and felt and thought had already been wanted, needed felt or thought. 

The only thing she could do was to passively accept her destiny. She was Roxy, model number something dot something else.  
She didn't have control over her Aspect, no visible affinity for her Class, and she was terribly, deeply alone. But maybe the last one was exactly what made her like all the other Roxys before her. 

Mom was alone, too. Hell, Mother was alone herself, and she was a Rose. Maybe it was the fate of all of them who had the Lalonde name burdening their shoulders, to end up alone and feeling useless. 

“You should sleep,” Dirk told her, his hand was warm where it touched Roxy’s scalp, his fingers so tender in her hair. He was just as real as Feferi had been, Roxy had no doubt.  
So, incredibly real for her and not at all for anyone else. 

“You should leave,” she snapped. “I want to hallucinate someone on my side.” 

“You're hallucinating me?” Dirk asked, scratching her scalp like old Dave always did. 

“You're def not real.” She swatted his hand away, huffing.  
Rationally speaking, she knew this wasn’t good at all, but stopping her volatile thoughts to analyze why it was happening was not in her list of fun things to do while caught in the web of political shenanigans. 

She wanted her mom to be a better person. To have considered Roxy and her feelings before starting this stupid plan. 

She also wanted a bed. This room wasn’t her room. It was too dark and too small and the ground was hard under her, dampening her clothes where they touched it. 

“Where have you been?” Jane questioned, in her face a pinch of the ferocity she was known and feared for.  
Roxy shook her head.

“Dunno. The vents? Something like that.”

“Why?” Jane snapped. But then she seemed to realize she didn’t actually care about the reason, and she waved her hand to get the question out of their way. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? You’ve been gone for two days, Roxy. I thought… well, you must at least drink a glass of water. And take a nice and hot shower, yes?”

“That sounds nice.”  
Roxy forced her mind to stay close to her for as long as she could. She went through the motions of sipping from three glasses of cool water and of scrubbing her skin clean from dust and spider webs.  
  
And when she launched herself on the mattress, lights still on and shining on every inch of the room, she closed her eyes and let the heavy weight on her chest go.

° ° ° 

Waking up was a mess of terror and feelings.  
Roxy could feel her stomach churning.  
A tell tale sign if she had ever felt one. 

She forced her body up, her legs to move as quickly as they could, and she reached the toilet before making a mess of the floor. 

Morning sickness. Not unlike a really bad hangover.  
They didn't say shit like that on the advice boards for first-time-gestating people. 

She hugged her new best friend, leaning her cheek against the cold ceramic of the wall tiles. 

A knock at her door woke her up from her impromptu, uncomfortable nap, and she banged her temple against the toilet seat.  
Shit. That hurt. 

Her legs were jelly and the bathroom had a nauseating smell of vomit. She flushed the toilet and opened the window. The bars outside the pane wouldn’t let her escape but at least the air would be fresher. 

“Who wants what?” she asked at the door. 

“Jane wants to see you fed,” her former friend-maybe-girlfriend said, humor and concern intertwined in her beautiful voice. 

Roxy would have loved Jane. She would have loved her deeply and dearly and she would have been a good girlfriend to her. Maybe even a good wife. 

And Jane had ruined every single one of the plans Roxy had been dreaming about.  
And maybe it was an old story, maybe she should have learned to let go, maybe she should have stopped thinking about Jane, considering she had the best fiancee in the world waiting for her at home. 

But… But Jane had destroyed her heart. And it hurt. It hurt really bad. 

“Fine,” Roxy said, mostly to herself. Fine, she could do it. She was strong. She could stay there, in the enemy’s lair, for as long as her mother considered enough. She would be a fucking traitor and she would survive, even if surviving was the last of her wishes. 

She opened the door and let Jane slip inside. 

“I thought you would prefer having breakfast in bed, considering you spent the last two days in uncomfortable places,” Jane said, a tray of deliciously smelling food in her hands.  
Pancakes, of course. Five different type of fruit all cut in small cubes and dripping in thick, lemony juice, bacon and sausages, because meat was the heart of a meal, and plain toast with honey. 

Like Roxy used to eat when she had been hangover. 

“I’ve been in an uncomfortable place since coming here, Janey,” she said, because drooling about the food would have given her jailer a wrong impression. 

“Would you like me to keep you company?” Jane asked, placing the tray on the still-made side of the bed. 

“It's your house. Do what you want,” Roxy snapped, throwing herself at the food.  
The pancakes were just syrupy enough to make up for the acrid burning in Roxy’s throat. 

“Do you like them?” Jane sat down next to the tray, turned just enough to examine the mess that was Roxy stuffing her mouth. 

“They’re fine,” she said around a bite of bacon. “Except for the betrayal aftertaste.” 

Jane snorted a laugh, and Roxy hated how she found it endearing. 

“I know you don’t approve of my choices, Roxy. I don’t want to change your mind or anything, but please understand that I did and am doing what I have to. Not unlike you right now.” 

“Are you saying your dad forced you to work for the fishbitch? Because, sorry, but I don’t believe it.”  
Roxy tried another bite of bacon and it tasted of ash in her mouth. She pushed herself off the bed, away from the food and away from Jane. 

“I’m not saying that. What I mean is, the Condescension would have taken one of us anyway, and I volunteered because… Because the others wouldn’t have been as good, I guess. Do you see John in my place? Or dad? Or poppop?”

“You could have joined us,” Roxy whispered. “You could have fought. You could have… you could have stayed. We would have protected you.” 

“Maybe,” Jane said, pursing her lips. 

“You chose this, Jane. I didn’t. You chose to leave me.”

“Your dear leaders have the bad tendency to protect only their supporters, Roxy. Stop being so blindsided by your mother’s attentions and look at what’s happening around you,” her jailer snapped. And Roxy… Roxy was angry, of course she was, but she was mostly hurt. 

“I would like you to leave, now,” she whispered, forcing her voice not to crack even a bit, her eyes to stay dry and narrowed.  
Anger was easier to feel. 

* * *

_Clack, clack, clack go the keys_ , Rose sing-sung in her head, and it sounded like Aradia’s voice.  
She missed Aradia’s silly songs. 

_Thump, thump, thump goes this stupid human heart_ , she added, backspacing the entire last paragraph she had written and checking the hour on the computer’s clock. 

Almost time for lunch. She wondered if Jade would keep her company today or if she was too busy with her job again.  
Not that Rose minded being alone or anything. Loneliness was a best friend she had never truly abandoned, no matter how she had gotten used to being among people. 

_Bark, bark, bark goes your ex-best friend_.  
She chuckled, scrabbling a portrait of Jade on her notebook. Tall, white, fluffy ears and too long fangs and the proportions were all messed up but she was also using her left hand to draw and her right to tap on the keyboard. 

All considered, the novel was coming along great. It almost didn’t matter that many a Rose before her had wrote something like it, if not identical.  
All those Roses could never have what she had. 

She thought of the Dolorosa (Porrim, named after a star. Rose considered it for a moment before tapping the name of her new character. Porrima. In her ancestor-in-law’s honor) looking at her womb with such fascinated fondness. 

And she thought of Kanaya, even if the distance between them was scary and unusual and painful.  
Kanaya, who chirped at her as they fell asleep, who chirred and purred and made a lot of animal sounds, small sounds, coos almost, whenever Rose so much as touched her own belly. 

Motherhood was… something she would have known either way.  
A new Roxy would be bred for her in a few years. And that was fine. That was part of the flow of time. Rose had seen it and she had made peace with it a long time ago. 

That was just as things were in their family. And in the families around them, were they human or troll. 

The shine hit her mid-word. She had been expecting it but it caught her by surprise anyway.

There was a lot of red. Blood? Time? She could barely discern it, but she knew it wasn't good.  
Red was the Condesce and her propaganda, red was Aradia, Karkat, Dave. All people she cared about. All people she didn't want to lose.  
  
Red was the blood of any human, too, and wasn’t that helpful in narrowing it down?

Rose came back to herself panting and overheating. The house was small and cozy, somewhat harsh in its lines, and until a moment before it had been freezing. Maybe because Jade had mixed herself with a husky that liked the cold, or maybe because she was a fucking masochist. 

She shed her borrowed sweatshirt – a lovely burgundy, soft as fresh fallen snow – and she forced herself up.  
She had been lazing around on the couch all day, in lack of anything better to do, but it was time for lunch now. And at least a glass of water, if not a pot of good coffee. 

For all her flaws, Jade Harley knew what coffee brews were the absolute best. 

Pouring cereal in a chipped cup, Rose couldn’t help but feel like she was back in New York again, looking after her mom and wasting her life with hatred and uncomfortable anger. 

She hummed to let the air knew she was there. And also because the silence was jarring her nerves. Loneliness was a cruel friend, but mostly a friend of her past. She had gotten used to Kanaya and Aradia sharing her spaces all the time, to her siblings checking in on her every day, to her… friends. In the brooding caverns. 

She had gotten spoiled and fragile, surrounded by loving people for the better part of a decade. 

“This is stupid,” she whispered, and her voice felt weird reverberating against the unknown walls.  
Rose ate her cereal on the couch, TV blasting some ghost hunters show or whatever it was. 

It was close to three in the morning when Jade came back, bursting through the door like a hurricane and glaring holes in Rose’s shape. 

“Have you really spent all day there?”

“Of course not. I went for a lovely walk in the park and met friendly people. Made some new friends.” Rose glared back, but mostly out of courtesy. It wasn’t nice to let Jade be the only pointlessly angry one in the room. 

“You could have stayed out,” Jade snapped, taking off her coat and lab coat and sweater, standing in front of the couch in her long sleeved shirt and floor length skirt. She cut a truly impressing figure.  
Taller than even Kanaya was, board shoulders straight and tense, glasses reflecting the light of the TV, black hair flowing on her back. 

“you look better,” Rose said, sitting up and moving the cup from beside her to the low coffee table. “Less spitting mad. Did the Condesce take you for a walk? Scratched behind your ears?” 

“Shut up, Lalonde. I’m going to bed.” She stalked to her bedroom, stopping in front of it to sniff the air. “You didn’t get in.”

“I value privacy, Jade. Even a dog's privacy.”

“The dog jokes are getting real old,” Jade said, but Rose could have waged there was an inkling of a smile on her face. She didn’t turn to see it, though. It would have only made Jade crankier. 

A cranky Jade was hilarious, sure, in that way pissed off people were hilarious, but she was also dangerous.  
Were Rose in another situation, she would have prodded and poked much more, asking for a fight to take her mind off the bore. But she was not in a different situation and she couldn’t risk hurting the little thing growing inside her. 

“Goodnight, Jade,” she called, a sigh escaping her lips as she settled back down on the couch.  
Boring TV it was, then. No fighting, no pissing her host off, no tiring herself too much. 

It wasn’t good for the baby. Rose had been told that so many times, she was getting kinda tired of it, but she knew well enough how true it was. 

Another red shine hit the back of her mind and she took the conscious decision to ignore it in favor of some well deserved rest.  
Life as a prisoner was incredibly taxing. 

° ° °

Rose approached the Roxy in her vision. She was emaciated and underfed, shaped in all the wrong ways, with hands trembling and eyes wide. 

“Are you real?” she asked, fat tears streaming her cheeks. Rose sat down next to her in the darkness, stifling heat making it hard to breath. 

“I would reckon so,” Rose said. Roxy was small, smaller than she should have been. She was… twenty-two, right? She should have been. Same age as Rose. As Dave. As Dirk. As anyone, really.  
But this Roxy wasn't. She was young. Much, much too young. 

“You're not like her,” Roxy whispered, and she was sobbing.  
Crying people were hard to comfort.  
And Roxy, both the Roxys Rose had known in her life till then, had never shown such a vulnerable side of themselves to her. 

“Like your mother?” she asked, because she was a Lalonde too, and she knew how mothers could be difficult and infuriating and how much they could hurt you, unwillingly or otherwise. 

“She's not my mother!” Roxy snapped, hands tearing at her hair. Rose placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, bones poking at her palm.  
Roxy wasn’t fat, had never been, but she had always had more meat on herself than this. Or muscles, sometimes. Rose supposed it depended on the Roxy in question.

“Then who is she?” 

“I don't know. I don't know anything!” the kid shouted, and Rose had a moment to breathe before her heart clenched in her chest. Visions inside the vision assaulted her brain, but they weren’t born of her powers or her Light, no. They were visions of fear, of desperation.  
Her children, she promised herself, would never be like this. Her children would know love, a pure, easy kind. They would know support, and kindness, and a true, careless childhood. 

Her children would never become unwilling soldiers, would never get neglected. She was never going to become like the other Roses before her. That was what made her different. That was what made her unique. 

She would love her children in a way that the others before her hadn't. 

“I'm useless,” Roxy whined, curling up on herself, abandoning the meager comfort of Rose’s hand on her. 

“You don't have to be useful, Roxy,” she murmured, scooting closer but not touching again. “We're all useless, anyway.”

“That's not true, though!” 

“Where are you, Roxy?” Rose asked, the Light shining brighter around her not-quite-sister. 

“I told you! I don't know anything! About anything. I just don’t know!” the frantic way her voice twisted reminded Rose of tales of old gods and grimdarkness, and she tried to coax the Light to show more. Light was always better than darkness. 

“Were you born here?” Rose asked, and the panic was making its way in her too, the need to think fast, act faster, the necessity of keeping Roxy from the darkness and its throes. 

“No. They made me in another place but… I’ve been here so long. I’m always alone, Rose. I’m all alone. I… I shouldn’t be alone. I know I shouldn’t. She promised me I wouldn’t be alone forever but I'm so tired of waiting.” 

Rose bit through her lip, blood coating her tongue, slipping down her throat.  
Roxy was right, she wasn’t supposed to grow up alone. None of them were.  
They were in quartets for a reason. To build character and friendships and bonds. 

The adults were decent enough to realize that children couldn't stay removed from reality, couldn’t interact only with one subpar parent all their lives. 

But whomever had made this Roxy… whomever had taken her in this dark, ugly place…  
They weren't a good person. 

“I want to help you,” Rose said, and her heart finally unclenched enough to let her breathe. 

° ° ° 

Jade was shaking her awake, fangs bared and a growl deep in her chest.  
Her eyes shone too much in the darkness, a green bright enough to lit the entire living room. Not that it was exceptionally large or anything.

“I'm going to slap you so hard you will wake up in three years wondering who you are, I swear to all the gods,” Jade was hissing, her claws digging in Rose’s shoulders, drawing blood and possibly leaving bruises in the shape of her fingers. 

“I think you would benefit from a chamomile, Jade,” Rose mumbled, throat sore and voice raspy. 

“I will flay you alive,” Jade growled, taking her hands away and heaving a deep, deep sigh. She plopped down on the couch, next to Rose’s hip. She buried her hands in the wild mess that passed for her hair, panting as if she had run miles upon miles upon miles. 

“What hurt you?” Rose asked, scooting up until her back until her back was against the armrest of the couch. 

“Your attempted suicide?” Jade snapped, tearing at her hair like the Roxy in her vision had. 

“No suicide attempts here, my friend. Just a weird dream.”

“You weren't breathing, you piece of shit.”

“Aw, you care about me, after all,” Rose teased, ignoring the way her heart was beating out of time. 

“I care about myself. The doctor is scary as fuck and she will kill me if something happens to you. I am not so arrogant to think I could survive her wrath.” 

“The _doctor_ ,” Rose mocked, her mouth twisting in all the wrong ways.  
Her mother was called in many ways, and she liked none of them. She was just another Roxy who hadn’t beaten her alcoholism and had made her daughter’s life a mess. 

She wasn’t as bad as old Dirk, no, but…  
Rose couldn’t find many good things to say about her. 

“Oh leave your mommy issues elsewhere, Lalonde. I don’t care enough to pamper you through a breakdown.” 

“Fuck off. You can go back to bed, Jade dear, I'm perfectly fine.” 

“Last time I checked this was my house. I think I can do whatever the fuck I want. And right now I want to play nurse and suicidal piece of shit,” Jade said, nose scrunched up and arms crossed on her chest. 

“I'm not suicidal,” Rose repeated, airing her sweaty shirt. It was both too stifling and too cold in the house, and she wondered if she was not, perhaps, empathizing too much with the Roxy in her vision.

“Whatever. I’m gonna stay right here for the rest of the night, and if you so much as stop breathing for one second I'll start swinging.”

“Suit yourself,” Rose had to concede. She wiggled around until she found a comfortable position, kind of cradling Jade’s back against her belly, elbows digging in her hipbone. 

She didn't fall asleep, exactly, but she slipped in the fuzz in between wake and unconsciousness, and there she stayed for the rest of the night, removed from Jade’s heavy breathing and the promise of dreams both.


	4. Intermission I: A long day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and posted this from my phone so it's very possible there's a lot of typos and mistakes. 
> 
> I've decided to put some intermission in the story to show non-protagonists lives.

Nepeta polished her steel claws under the cool shade of the caverns.   
The air was in hues of green, and even if she had never been meant for this place at all – too warm, she was – she felt more at home than anywhere else on the mish-mashed planet. 

The Space Invocation had gone well enough, all considered, and she was proud of the help she had offered, warmed up by her old friends’ smiles. 

She thought of the fondness she held for them.  
Aradia, bright like an exploding star, daughter of the Handmaid in more ways than one, cheerful and full of words. Nepeta had missed her the most.   
Kanaya, dressed in human grief and mourning, proud as Nepeta’s pride had been, unbent under the pain of loss. She had always been impressive as a child, banisher of the undead, rainbow drinker, escaped from the Handmaid’s clutches. 

Rationally speaking, Nepeta should have resented Kanaya her slipperiness.   
She was supposed to stand among the dead, and she wasn't. She was supposed to serve the Handmaid and she didn't.   
But… Kanaya was her friend. Nepeta liked her alive more than dead, as she should have been. Luminous and merciless and wrong and perfect. 

“Pupa,” the Handmaid’s sultry voice reached her ears, and Nepeta sheathed her claws, hidden under the green velvet of her gloves. “Time to come home.”

Nepeta jumped on her feet, abandoning the cool shade and pulling her hat as low as it would go, to cover her eyes from the sun. It wasn’t Alternia’s killer daystar, no, but it was bright, too bright, and Nepeta knew her pupils were pinpricks of black in a sea of green.

The Demoness appeared in front of her in a cackle of lime lightning and Nepeta took her hand because she could do nothing else. 

° ° °

Home was a thing to behold. Walls scraping the sky, windows offering too much light in every room, cocoons and recuperacoons and piles strewn all over in the day wing, couches and desks and computers all over the night wing.  
It was peaceful, familiar, sweet. Nepeta let herself flop down on her pile, stuffed animals of any shape squishing under her. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” the Handmaid asked, and Nepeta didn’t open her eyes to see the pride already shining in the woman’s face. She knew that pride. It was the same that bubbled in her chest. 

“Yes. I just had to focus on two soulwaves. Nothing major.” 

“But no one else could have done it,” the Handmaid said, and her voice, too, was proud.   
For all intents and purposes, she had been more of an Ancestor to Nepeta than the Disciple.

Meulin, after all, was too busy working on the Resistance to teach Nepeta anything useful.   
Damara was not. Damara was happy to have her in her home, to share knowledge and wisdom with her. To raise her to adulthood.   
She was harsh, sure. Brusque and kindness-deficient. But she was loving, too and took good care of Nepeta. 

“Meulin could have,” she said, because she felt like being contrary. 

“The Disciple couldn’t find her own ass without the good mother or the mutant pointing it out to her,” Damara spat out, crossing her long, long arms on her chest. She was tall. As tall as the sun itself, sometimes it seemed. As tall as life and death and as strong as the balance. But she was also harmless to Nepeta. 

“She's not so bad,” Nepeta chided, a laugh buried under the discomfort such words brought her. 

“You don’t know her like I do. That's good,” Damara said, pushing her to a corner of the pile to sit down herself.   
The stuffed animals screeched in pain. Poor things. 

“Have you slept at all?” Nepeta asked, and her heart twisted up, memories of concerned words, concerned feelings welling up, dark circles and calloused hands, wires and scraps of metal and fake resistance at her every attempt to take care. 

_Ha…_ she missed him. She was so pathetic.

“I've slept. Don't worry, pupa. Have _you_ slept?” Damara put a big hand on Nepeta’s head, ruffling her hair. 

“Not really. I'm fine.” She couldn't even feel the tiredness, except for the way her powers recoiled every time she tried to approach them.   
But she couldn't say that aloud or the Handmaid would force her through endless hours of training. Again. 

“Then get ready. We have a job.”

° ° °

Being the Handmaid in training wasn't all that exciting, Nepeta considered as she cleaned herself up.   
The ablution block in Damara’s house was an immense, shallow pool carved from rose marble, decorated with garnets and rubies. 

Or was it her house? She had been living there for… three sweeps, circa. 

The walls had seen the good and the bad of her, the despair and resignation, the exasperation, the training sessions, the happiness and the tears.   
They knew her and she knew them, every crook and hidden secret. 

She let the water fall around her, never quite the right temperature, and the blood flowed down her limbs into the pool, a beautiful indigo that made Nepeta think of things better left in the past. 

She shook herself of the water droplets, donning the softest, limest robe, leaving wet splotches on the ground as she moved through the rooms. 

Sometimes Damara disappeared. Nepeta wasn't worried, not exactly, but she still didn't like being alone in the house. 

She had never gotten used to loneliness, growing up with her pride and then rooming with her… friends, and later being taken in by the Handmaid.   
Being alone was hard, and she wasn't keen on it, but asking the Handmaid to not do something was like asking a starving barkbeast not to eat a steak in front of its muzzle. 

“Where you going, pupa?”   
Nepeta hissed, back curving and claws out, ready to attack.   
“Down, girl. I wasn't trying to scare you.”

“Sorry. Don't do that,” Nepeta said, breathing through her nose to slow down her heartbeat. 

“You need to refine your instincts, kitten,” Damara chided, flicking one of her horns. Nepeta suppressed the pained whine in her mouth and snarled at the woman.   
“Come on, let's train.”

“Noo…” Nepeta lamented, trying for her sweetest eyes. Damara pouted to suppress a smile – it wouldn’t go with her Handmaid persona, after all – and tutted, shaking her head. 

“You need to get better, Nepeta.”  
It was so rare that the Demoness called her her true name that Nepeta had to agree. 

° ° °

Sweat pooled on her brow, falling down into her eyes.  
The needles at her throat were drawing blood. Not much, but blood nonetheless, and Nepeta swallowed around the pain, pushing her flesh against the weapon, feeling them slip just a little more inside. 

“People don’t want to die, pupa,” the Handmaid said, glaring down at her. “You have to get faster, stronger and better. This will be your destiny, if you can bear it.” 

“I'll just go nameless,” Nepeta croaked, struggling to push the woman off her. 

Damara gave a bark of a laugh, mean and harsh.   
“Don't be stupid. You have so much talent, I won't let you go nameless. That would be such a waste.” 

“I have not managed a single blow in three sweeps, Handmaid,” she spat out, anger bubbling deep in her stomach, the sting of failure like a full-body third-degree burn. 

She was a good huntress, no one could say anything about it, but she was a useless fighter against trolls and humans alike.   
She hadn't been made for that. 

“Against me. I'm not the common troll you will find at every corner. I'm old as time itself, immortal and endless. You will never beat me in a fight, and you shouldn't strive to. You are already a much more proficient fighter than when we started.” 

Praise was uncommon in the house, and Nepeta felt herself blush despite the circumstances. She sighed, and eventually Damara let herself be pushed away, her needles coming out of the soft flesh of Nepeta’s throat, bringing with them a splatter of olive green. 

“Fix that and clean up,” the woman ordered, putting her weapons away, “I'm going to get us something to eat.”

Nepeta nodded, copying her and retracting her claws. Hands finally free and not likely to harm anything or anyone, she applied pressure on the holes in her neck. 

After her third visit to the ablution block that day, she sat down at the table in Damara’s dining room. Everything was a forbidden shade of lime green, but Nepeta had made her peace with that.   
She had made peace with the history behind it, too.  
She had never had any delusion that Alternia was a good place or anything, anyway. 

“Cutlery,” Damara barked, dry as the desert. Nepeta rolled her eyes and picked up her fork, giving the woman her fakest smile.   
“Pupa, you've tested my patience a lot, today.”

“A bit more won't hurt,” Nepeta said, shrugging as she accepted the slab of raw meat Damara passed her.   
Her teacher didn't partake in it. Not ever. Raw stuff wasn’t good for her flat teeth.   
She had a plate filled with flat grubloaf and green stuff that Nepeta was sure were some kind of human vegetables.

“It will hurt _you_ ,” the Handmaid warned, a playful smile on her rust painted lips. 

They ate in silence, after that. Nepeta was too tired to speak, and the Demoness was probably overstimulated by now. 

It had been a long day.


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I love everyone of you who commented or left a kudo  
> I'll try to post the next chapter quicker!

Jane was... tired.   
She buttoned her jacket with firm hands that wanted to shake and she scowled at the mess that was her hair.   
The Condesce wouldn't bother her for that, but some of her underlings might. They might stare, and whisper, and gossip.   
The Jane Crocker was disheveled, the Jane Crocker wasn't in prime conditions. 

They might have even tried something stupid, and then Jane would have to murder them. 

Ah, she was so tired.   
Tired of being a villain and a killer, tired of having to uphold some sort of unwavering facade. She was tired of being strong for someone who couldn’t really appreciate her efforts. 

“Stop whining, you piece of shit,” she told her reflection, grimacing at how her voice echoed in the enormous bathroom. 

She had spent years in her gifted house and she was still unaccustomed to its luxury, its grandiosity.   
The Condesce surely didn’t do things half-assedly. 

She splashed freezing water on her face one last time and she straightened her shoulders, admiring herself in the mirror.   
The circles around her eyes were merciless but she would use them to her favor, like she used everything else. 

Jane was the best because she was accommodating, she was adaptable, she never let anything bring her down to the bottom. 

She was the best because she had known the weight of her future before deciding to get down to it, and she was the best because she was strong enough to bear that weight. 

She wasn’t like her dearest sister, a mad genius swayed to their side only because the Condesce’s magic was too powerful to resist.   
She wasn’t like Jade, lost inside her own mind and incapable to access her true feelings, her true thoughts. 

Jane was… responsible for her own actions. And she couldn’t hide behind the mind control excuse, but at the same time she had a lot less things to make up for because of it.   
She wasn’t a mindless killing machine, no matter what the Condesce liked to think. 

Her alarm rang, reminding her that she only had twenty minutes to get herself together enough to leave for work.   
She could make a lot of food in twenty minutes. Both for herself and for Roxy.   
Omelets, maybe. Omelets were good for breakfast. Nutritious. Full of proteins. Roxy would indeed benefit from a good, hearty breakfast. 

Yes, yes that was alright. Omelets were alright. Easy to make. Not a lot of thoughts process required.   
Jane had none to spare. None to waste on food. 

She whipped the eggs with grated cheese until she saw small bubbles, and she threw in all the vegetables she could think of. Mushrooms, too. Garlic, obviously. 

“What you making?” Roxy asked, and Jane lost her grip on the whisk as she jumped out of her skin. 

“Omelets.” She scowled at the eggs splattered on the floor. If she cleaned it up she would lose time, but if she left it for the maids the room would smell terribly forever. 

“Leave it, Jane. I'll do it later,” Roxy said, and she sounded tired too, just as tired as Jane was feeling. “It’s my fault for scaring you.” 

“You don't have to. I’ll have someone come by later. The place needs to be cleaned up anyway.”  
Jane let the silence lull around them. Silence was easier, she couldn't hurt Roxy if she didn't speak. Probably.

“I thought about… the _stuff_. You said. Last night…” Roxy started, eyes fixed on the ground. Her complexion was ashier than usual, scarily gaunt. “And you're right. We care about ours and we don't give a fuck about anyone else. But that's… that’s already more than you do. That's... it's not our job to care for everyone. And if you had been with us you could have vouched for whomever you wanted and we would have taken it into consideration. Or something. Kankri is very… generous. With his protection.” 

Jane snorted, her ears ringing with endless spews about the mutant, the clashing of metal against tiles and gold thrown about like missiles of anger.   
“Kankri is as vicious as the Condesce. Don't let his sob story fool you into thinking he is a good man.”

“You don't know him, Jane. He has done a lot of good things for the people.” 

“His people.”

“Whatevs. I thought you would understand,” Roxy murmured, dejected and glaring in her direction. 

“I thought guilt tripping was beneath you,” Jane snapped back. She silently cursed herself for it.

Roxy was understandably stressed, understandably angry with Jane and also very much understandably trying to make her captor sway to her side. 

Jane really had no place to snap out like that. She had no reason to be pissed.   
Maybe the ethical and emotional conundrum she was in was starting to take a toll on her.   
The Schrödinger’s box of ‘ _am I doing the right thing or am I a monster_ ’ was getting a little too big in her mind and she wasn’t sure she wanted to open it and discover that, _sorry, the kitty is dead, Roxy hates you and you are indeed a monster_. 

She didn't want to know. She didn't need the confirmation, honestly. 

Was keeping her once-upon-a-time best friend prisoner a bad thing? Obviously.  
Was the fact that Jane was doing it for said best friend’s continued chance at survival enough to compensate for the wrongness of it all? De-fucking-batable.

Ends and means and all that. A touch too philosophical for Jane's tastes. She liked to cook and fill in paperwork and shoot idiots in between the eyes. She didn't have time for philosophy of any kind. 

“You underestimate how much I want to leave. Nothing is beneath me if it gets me out of here, Janey.” Jane had started to associate that nickname to hatred and resentment. Nothing had ever sounded sweeter, once upon a time, and now it was getting soiled with ugly emotions.   
Brief summary of their whole relationship.   
“And its really presumptuous of you to try and claim the moral high ground while you’re being the biggest shitstain on morality’s asshole.”

“I'm trying to do what's best for the both of us,” Jane said, biting her tongue on some more acidic remarks. She reminded herself that Roxy had every right to be angry. Every right to hate her. 

Jane's mission was to keep Roxy alive. Nothing more than that.   
The objective was very straightforward. Keep Roxy alive until the end of the war.   
Roxy’s feelings towards her had never been part of the equation.   
Jane had somewhat known before the start that her once friend would not tolerate any of this. 

“Don’t give me that shit!” Roxy shouted, slapping both her hands on the kitchen isle separating them. “You're following orders,” she added, quieter, calmer, more vicious. “That's all you know how to do these days.”

“I'm still the same I was when we met,” Jane tried to argue, but she was getting too tired to even talk, let alone debate. 

“Yeah. With a body count.”

“As if you've never killed anyone. This is a war, Roxy. No matter the pretty, stupid fairytales your leaders tell you.”

Roxy narrowed her beautiful eyes to a sliver. Her lips pulled back to show coffee-stained teeth. It reminded Jane of her dear sister. “I would gladly kill you,” her once best friend spat out. Jane couldn’t pretend Roxy didn’t know the truths of war, not when her voice could sound like that.

And for a blessed, cursed minute there was only silence between them. Loud as the rifles Jade loved to play with. Heavy as the weight of the lives Jane had taken to claim a glory she wouldn't have wanted. A glory she wanted not to need. A praise she would be happy to never hear again.

“I didn't mean it,” Roxy whispered, and now her voice was hers again, kind of innocent, kind of broken, kind of human again. 

“It's fine,” Jane said, finally making the damn omelets. Too many emotions not to make breakfast. She needed the strength and so did Roxy.

“Really, I didn’t.”

“I get it,” Jane reassured, but her eyes wouldn't meet Roxy’s.   
They ate over silence, and with silence in tow, Jane left the house, more tired and her mind more confused, but she kind of felt like she was getting somewhere. 

° ° °

“I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Miss Crocker,” one of her many assistants groveled, eyes to the ground and hands gripping a manila folder to his chest so tight his knuckles were white. “Our Radiant Heiress wishes to speak with you.” 

“And?” Jane asked. Twenty minutes into work and she was already about done for the day.   
Three clients, two corpses and at least a thousand phone calls couldn't have possibly been enough.   
No, the Bright Gods wanted her to beg for a breather. 

Too bad that Jane had never begged anyone in her life and never would. At the price of her own fucking life. 

“A-and…?” the assistant repeated. He was shaking like a leaf, the poor thing. Had it been another day, Jane would have taken pity of him. Or at least she would have been more patient. 

“Let her in!” she snapped instead of being merciful. “She owns the goddamn place! You want to keep her out waiting?” 

“N-no ma’am!” He scuttled away, stammering some sort of apology that Jane didn't want nor need.   
She stared at the doorway until Feferi appeared, radiant in her fuchsia dress covered in pearls and gold.   
For all her flaws, the Heiress knew how to dress to impress. And Jane was indeed impressed. 

“Your things are so cute,” Feferi said, her teeth peeking from between her painted lips in a mockery of a smile. “I almost envy you, Jane.” 

“They would last nothing with you. Incompetent as they are,” Jane said, and she wasn’t lying, per se, but she knew she was mostly trying to keep Feferi from stealing her assistants. Maybe if she gave them enough of a bad name the Heiress wouldn't want them anymore.

“You sure it's not you the problem?” Feferi teased, coming to sit on the desk, one foot still on the ground, half turned towards Jane but never getting the door out of her field of vision.   
The Condesce was training her well. 

“The problems are always everywhere,” she answered, and it didn't make a ton of sense but she forgave herself for it. She was really, really tired. 

“For what is worth, darling, my experience dictates that the problem almost always lays in the hands of a pretty lady with dark hair and silly glasses,” Feferi said, putting on a wise tone that was weird on top of not suiting her cheerfulness at all. 

“So… with you?” Jane asked, and Feferi gave a chirp of a laugh. 

“Yes, also with me. The thing, you see, is that I’m learning to own up to my mistakes. You and Jade… not so much. To be diplomatic.” 

“It loses the diplomatic purpose if you specify you're being diplomatic,” Jane said, smiling to placate the shivers running down her back.   
Feferi couldn't possibly know, could she? 

No. No. Both her and the Condesce were Life Heroes. They didn't have any ability that could offer them insight into Jane's private life. And her new guest, most importantly. 

“Let me be even less diplomatic, then,” Feferi chirped, hands together on the thigh she was resting on the desk.   
The change was all at once, the bubbliness became venom and her smile became a threat.   
“You fucked up big time, Jane. You and your bitch of a sister really messed it up. I could have her turn a blind eye when it was only you pining after your stupid girl or your stupid brother, but this!? I can't cover your ass for this! You accepted a fucking war refugee in your house, Jane! The daughter of one of our most wanted enemies, no less!” Feferi inhaled deeply and the gills on her throat flapped open, her fins spreading in a show of prowess Jane couldn't understand.   
She could understand the menace behind the gesture, though.   
That one she understood perfectly well.   
“From now on, you're on your own. You're an ungrateful, shitty excuse for a sister and I won't help you out anymore.” 

“Feferi,” Jane started, not knowing what to say, how to segue, how to express everything on the tip of her tongue, the emptiness of her brain.   
The fear. The guilt.  
The anger, too, there was that too, deep under the confusion.   
Feferi should have understood. She was kind of in the same position as Jane, after all. 

“What you're going to do now is this,” Feferi said after the silence stretched out too much. “You're taking that stupid ass of yours out of this fucking building and you're doing something great. Something that will make her stop to think before she kills you in cold blood. And you know she has the coldest blood in the entire fucking universe. You get me?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like destroying the big motherfucker. You’ve been lazing around lately, Jane. You're not pulling your weight. And she's getting suspicious. And she's fucking right to be! You get out there and you put the Grand Highblood out of our misery and you do it good. Do you get me?” Feferi stared too hard in Jane's eyes. If she didn't know better she would have thought the Heiress had some sort of chucklevoodoo abilities in her. But no. No, Feferi was just terrifying when she got angry and fed up. 

And Jane had indeed fucked up big time, there was no denying that. 

“I-I will. I will. Consider it taken care of.” 

“Good, good. I will give Jade dearest the same advice I just gave you, darling. And I hope she is just as cooperative as you are, or we will have a funeral on our hands. And we don’t want one, do we?” Feferi growled deep in her throat, a monstrous sound. Jane shook her head, not trusting her voice enough to speak. 

She didn’t consider herself particularly prideful, but having her voice crack and shiver in front of Feferi while the Heiress was like this would be… mightily shameful. She had been training herself to be better than that. She had trained herself to be strong. Especially in the face of creatures much, much more powerful and scary than she was. 

“Don’t you dare pull another stunt like this, Jane, or I will execute you myself, the Condesce’s thirst for blood be damned. I’ve done so much for you over the years…” The resentment was plain as day, and just as comprehensible. Jane swallowed the guilt as much as she could, she thought of Roxy. Not weak, never weak, but fragile nonetheless. Vulnerable. In need of protection. 

She thought of Roxy’s quiet smiles. She hadn’t seen one of those in too many years. She thought of her little habits, like pulling at the curls in her hair until they had no more life to them, refusing to fix her eyebrows for months at a time just because doing it was a waste of time. Teasing Jane for doing her best to be always prim and proper. 

She thought of Roxy’s words only an hour prior. The hatred, pure and bare. The guts-deep disgust she felt for Jane, the ire and the bubbling of awful emotions between them.

There were no happy endings down the road Jane had decided to walk. She had known since the beginning, maybe even before Mother Lalonde’s visit. 

But even if all that was true and undeniable… Jane had made the right choice. 

* * *

“I would advice against going to the Laboratories today,” Rose said, her mouth stuffed full of cereal. Jade doubted the asshole had eaten anything other than cereal in the entire week she had spent in the house. 

Not that Jade cared. 

“I would advice you mind your damn business, but advices are sometimes lost on people.”

“Nice. There's hope of getting you back to humanity, yet.” Rose’s smirk was the smuggest, most irritating thing Jade had ever witnessed.   
“There are studies that say that sarcasm is what makes us different from the common mammal.”

“Common mammal is such a stupid thing to say. It was probably written by a piece of shit who don’t know fuck all about nothing.” 

“Possible,” Rose acquiesced. She looked like she wanted to say more, but for some reason she didn’t.   
Again, not that Jade cared in the least. Lalonde could have dropped dead then and there and she wouldn't even have cared. 

Except for the fact that… well.   
Her actions betrayed the falsity of her thoughts, didn't they?

Sometimes Jade hated herself. She had so many useless emotions. She would be such a better creature without them. Much more efficient, much less distracted. 

“Aside from this delightful digression,” Rose finally said, her lower lip – a good example of badly hidden indecisiveness – was mangled to a bloody, swollen mess. “You really should consider staying home today.”

“I know you know that I won't if you don't give me a reason. Cut these little games of yours.”

“The Heiress is coming to pay you a visit and there are many valuable things in the Laboratories, aren't there?”

“I said,” Jade growled, coming to a millimeter from Lalonde’s face, “Cut the games. Get to the fucking point.”

“Very well. The Heiress is angry at you for… making her job harder, I think. And the Laboratories will be destroyed in the hypothetical fight between the two of you. Also, you would die. And consequently I would too.”

° ° ° 

The resignation of Seers was a thing of frustrating beauty.   
Jade didn’t care much about mythical roles and destinies cut out from cardboard.   
She liked to live her life and take her choices, consequences and all. 

For Rose Lalonde, life was different.   
Thought processes marred by a future that could be, that Rose had to want, a future that could only be the best, even when it was shitty as fuck. 

Jade would have hated being a Seer. They were so bound by their role. So restricted and obligated. 

Just the fact that she had to obey Rose’s advice was enough to make Jade claustrophobic. 

But then again… Rose was a Seer. And Seers weren’t wrong. Not ever. Not those as accomplished as Lalonde was. 

And Jade couldn’t let her die. 

Rose was a pain in the ass, and at best times insufferable.   
But Jade couldn’t let her die. 

And she tried too hard to tell herself it was because she was afraid of the doctor, afraid of fighting against Void and Time and possibly Light, too, if the older generation Rose wanted to step in to get her vengeance flowing. 

Gods did she try to convince herself that this was the reason. 

It wasn’t affection. Jade had no affection to give. All that burdened her mind was work. Work and experiments and pure, sterile science. 

Her forced loyalty to the Condesce, bought with gifts and promises of grandiosity. Not even that was affection. 

“She will be here in a moment,” Rose said, and she would have possibly added something. There were thanks on her lips, Jade could smell the stench of them. So sweet and poisonous. So truthful. 

But again, no fear. There was no trace of fear in all of Rose Lalonde. 

Surely… surely the doctor hadn't experimented on her own daughter. Surely she hadn't extracted anything that could have meant Rose’s continued survival. 

Her anger at the thought didn’t have time to blossom and spill out of her lips in a growl, for the door opened, slamming against the wall and cracking it. 

Jade looked at the debris falling to the ground instead of at her not quite sister.

“Heiress,” Rose started, placid and tranquil, seamlessly standing up from the couch, all in all the perfect hostess. “What a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Cut the crap,” Feferi snapped, waving a jeweled hand at Rose, not even sparing a glance in her direction.   
Jade bristled at that, secondary ears flattening on her skull, upper lip curling to show her fangs. 

“Mommy wouldn’t be proud of your rudeness,” Jade snarled, stepping closer to Feferi to prevent Lalonde from doing anything stupid.   
Mostly. 

She didn’t have the Quills with her, did she?

“Shut your mouth,” Feferi rebuked, arms crossed on her chest. Her hair was impeccable and her long dress not even wrinkled.   
Jade found her flawlessness ridiculous.   
What good was rage if she couldn’t even express it properly? 

Wrath was beautiful only if worn with pride.   
Subtlety of emotions was for the lowlife that couldn't risk being found out, that would be punished for it. 

“You know what brings me here,” Feferi said, and it was no question. She gestured at Rose with her head, and not even the snappish movement was enough to dislodge her carefully made hairdo. 

“I don't, actually. I understand you have a stick in your ass about me rooming with our dear Lalonde, here, but I don't see how any of it is even remotely your business.” 

“You’re more of an idiot than I assumed, then,” Feferi spat out, clawing at her own arms with perfectly manicured nails. 

“Or you're being irrational. You're making this a thing when it doesn’t need to be.”

“It doesn't…!” Feferi’s eyes were wide. Still yellow, it would take a long tome for the fuchsia to seep in and paint her sclera.   
Jade would die before seeing it, probably.   
For nothing else, because she didn’t expect to live long.  
She didn’t plan to live long, either.   
“ _Harley_ ,” her pseudo sister almost shouted, her voice rumbling, deep like the ocean she had came from. 

“Heiress, please,” Rose interrupted, and she was still standing, she was still unafraid and Jade… Jade felt something that went beyond the usual rage corroding her insides. 

She felt something like pride, but better. Better in all ways, better because she hadn't had to teach Rose to be like that. She hadn't spent more than a moment thinking of Rose Lalonde since their last conversation so many years ago. 

And yet the girl – woman, almost, yet not fully formed, still longing for some maturity to her face, for some wisdom to her skin and some trauma to her eyes – was a perfect soldier. Or she wore a perfect mask. 

Jade felt respect. Not even the begrudging kind.   
Honest respect. She was fully impressed. 

“Take a seat. Let's talk this out. You have a proposition for Jade, don't you? It would be such a pity if she were to die by your hand. She is the Condesce’s favorite, after all,” Rose said, a smile on her unpainted lips, her body carrying the beauty of a royal even if she was in a ratty pajama shirt that had undoubtedly belonged to her brother and a pair of shorts that fell low to her hips and clung too much to her plush thighs. 

“Don't presume you can tell me what to do, Lalonde. You're a shitty human and I will be about to wear my crown by the time you're limping to your grave.” 

“Indeed,” Rose said, her smirk turning into a grin, “But I'm also a Seer of Light, and you know you will do as I say because it is in everyone's best interests.”

“As if you would have my best interests at heart. No, this is the beneficial route only for you. Possibly for Jade. But not for me. The best option, for me, would be to murder you both right now, take the problem away,” Feferi said, but she was already calmer, in a way. Some of her anger had turned to curiosity, scientific – or magic, as it were – excitement. 

Seers were her favorite, and Rose was being congenial enough for Feferi to _want_ her. 

A real pity that Lalonde was not up for the taking. 

“What if I assured you that this will benefit all of us in equal parts? After all, you wouldn't survive against English.” 

“Ha!” Feferi exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She had always had a flare for the dramatic. Maybe even more than the younger Vantas.   
Jade was almost willing to take her chances against her if only to forbid Feferi from saying anything remarkably stupid. Like the speech she could see brewing behind the Heiress’ lips.

But before she could offer a challenge, Rose spoke up again. 

“He's an abomination of power. A Lord, as you do undoubtedly know. Send Jade to take out his peons, weaken him. Have my brother subjugated and force him to deactivate his autoresponder. Take Scratch out of the picture, eliminate the Grand Highblood and his descendant in all his parts, destroy the juju, and eventually you will manage to kill the Lord,” she listed, raising her fingers one by one as she named the parts Lord English was comprised of. “Doing it all alone would be impossible. It is impossible.”

Feferi stood in front of Lalonde with fins flared in irritation, the pink shimmer making her skin glow. 

Jade would have also let her stew in her disbelief, if it wasn’t for the little, uncomfortable detail of her own role in the big plan Rose had laid out.   
“Motherfucker!” she hissed, blinking out of space and reappearing behind Feferi in a show of green flashes and cracks. “You would have sent me to die!? You fucking bitch!” She clawed at the Heiress’ neck, shredding her gills with sharpened nails, relishing in her cries. 

“Jade, stop,” Rose said, and again, no fear touched her, not even a breath of apprehension. Just… calm. A determined kind of levelheadedness. 

Fuck her too, Jade thought, tyrian blood flowing through her fingers, down her forearms, pooling in the rolled sleeves of her shirt. 

Feferi was stiff in her grip, buzzing with power.   
But, oh how Jade pitied her, she would never be powerful enough to overthrow her.   
Poor, poor, stupid Heiress. Jade wasn’t afraid of her, she wasn’t afraid of anyone. 

“Coming here was a mistake, Fef,” Jade whispered against her fin before biting down on the frail membrane.   
Feferi squirmed against her, her voice breaking in a shout and a sob, and Jade laughed with her mouth full of blood. “I told you so many times to not fuck with me, Fef. And you come into my home trying to threaten me? Trying to send me on a suicide mission? Fef, I thought you so much smarter than this,” Jade said, fake disappointment dribbling from her lips along her not sister’s blood. 

“Jade,” Rose called her again, her tone a reprimand in and of itself. 

“Hush, Rose,” Jade tutted, digging her nails deeper in Feferi’s neck. “The big girls are talking.”

“Stop this farce,” the Heiress croaked, her own fingers clawing at Jade’s hand. 

“Why did you have to force my hand Fef? I liked you. You could have stayed out of my biz and I wouldn't have had to hurt you like this.” 

Jade closed her eyes and took a deep breath.   
Rose gave a pained sigh and when Jade looked she was clutching her forehead, eyes covered but giving out a warm light. 

“Don't do this,” she pleaded, and it was so painful to hear her voice sound so small and hurt that Jade almost let go. 

_Almost_.

But dogs and their bones were hard to separate, and Jade had indeed a big bone to pick with Feferi.   
The green cracks appeared behind her eyelids and she clung to her sister, in nothing but name, harder. 

Rose disappeared from her sight. 

° ° °

The island was as empty had she had left it, wind blowing to the east and raising a mockery of the tide against the side of the pier. The howling, rumbling of the waves against the rock was the lullaby she had fallen asleep to for all her childhood. The brine and salt in the air smelled like home.   
The island was still hers, for all that it had never belonged to her. 

The trees and fauna were her parents, her safety, and they still felt familiar to her senses. 

A part of Jade waited for a bright, hairy spot to appear at her side, panting and lapping at her hand. 

Needless to say, Becquerel didn’t come. 

Becquerel wasn’t there anymore, and she could have missed him forever, but it wouldn’t have brought him back.

Jade sighed the grief away. Her best friend would always be with her, even if he wasn’t at her side.  
Now, she had a job to do.

It was a long fall to the sea. Not something Jade had ever tried to accomplish, not even as a careless, reckless, bored child. 

I was a long and dangerous fall. 

“Good luck, Fef,” she said, pushing the Heiress forward, down the pier. She waited until the splash of water that was bound to follow, and she looked at the horizon. 

She had wasted an entire three hours of work for this goddamn bullshit. 

Time to go. The Network didn't run itself.


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!! I have some good news though! I have outlined to chapter 21 of this fic (plus some intermission) and the chapters should come quicker now. Also, I have a sort of prequel in mind that would focus on Feferi's childhood/teenagehood. If/when I'll publish it I will put it in the same series as mowt.  
> As usual, this is not beta'd in any way and I've already been on it too long. If there are terrible mistakes forgive me.   
> Enjoy the chapter!

Looking at the situation with analytical eyes, Kanaya could surmise two things of the utmost importance. 

One: Rose was very close.  
The Invocation of Space had gone spectacularly well, and it made her realize that Rose – and Roxy, too – were exceptionally close. 

Two: she was being held hostage.  
Doctor Lalonde – she had Roxy’s curly hair, her same wide, fake smile she used in difficult situations to keep the morale high – was sitting quietly next to the only exit to the room, Martini glass in her hand, liquor sloshing around. 

They were playing a twisted kind of staring game. Kanaya trying to convey through her eyes how much the Doctor was wearing her patience thin, and the woman replying with a heavy-lidded, falsely inattentive gaze. 

“I don't believe myself a psychologist,” the doctor started, a bubbling, fake laugh in her voice, a shining twinkle in her eyes. “But I'm sure talking about your distress would help.” 

Kanaya bristled and crossed her arms on her chest, glaring at the woman.  
An irrational line of thoughts: how dared she wear the same beautiful face as Roxy. How dared she tarnish the name of one of Kanaya’s very best friends. She didn't deserve such an honor. 

And then a more rational one: this was the woman who had left – wittingly or otherwise – Rose with traumas for days.  
This was the woman who had neglected and hurt and ignored Kanaya’s wife. 

Trolls weren't soft creatures, but even then, they were raised by their lusii, and most of them were kind. Most of them took care of their wards. Most of them weren't alcoholics pieces of shit. 

“I understand that my culture is too hard for your mind to grasp, but such an invitation is highly inappropriate, considering I already have a moirail, as you should know,” Kanaya said, and her voice was strong and cool and for a moment she felt proud of herself. 

The Doctor waved her glass-bearing hand around, chuckling.  
“Quadrants are silly, Kanaya. I would have thought you, of all trolls, would have understood that by now. Look at your Momcestor. Do you think she is pale for Kankri? Do you think moirallegiance has any real weight on a planet that sees moirallegiance as the same thing as basic compassion?” 

“Whoop,” Aradia exclaimed, softly, as she appeared right between the two of them. “I see I'm just in time.” She looked at the Doctor first, and then at Kanaya, and her eyes were so beautiful and her stare so sweet, so very worried and calming. “Love, you have a bit of…” she gestured at her eyes and Kanaya put a hand to her own, feeling around for whatever her moirail was talking about.

There was nothing on her skin, no tears, no disrupted makeup. 

“Murderous rage, babe,” Aradia specified, giggling under her breath. 

Oh, Kanaya thought.  
Oh! 

This was the first time in a long time she had fallen prey to the rages, and indeed it was the first iteration she had gone through with a moirail at her side. 

“This is so very stupid,” the Doctor said, her tone all harsh angles and challenge. Kanaya was ready to take her on. She was ready to turn her to shreds. 

For Rose. But for herself too. For Aradia, for the honesty of their moirallegiance. 

“Lalonde,” Aradia warned, but she was bubbling with excitement.  
This was… this was their first stereotypical moirails thing.  
Kanaya was excited too, even if it was dulled under a ton or more of negative, destructive feelings. 

Her claws begged for blood, and so did her parched throat. 

“No, listen,” the woman slurred, trying a failing to stand up. She slumped against the chair she was sitting on, spilling her drink all over the front of her dress. “Listen, this is stupid. Everyone could calm her down. Look. Look… I could… well maybe not me. But anyone could calm her down. It doesn’t take any stupid relationship tier to do that.” She was getting fired up now, and so was Kanaya. 

Hadn't it been for the fact that Aradia was in between them, she would have leapt already. She would have had the woman's neck in her fangs and claws already, drinking her dry and tearing her skin apart. 

But Aradia was in between them, and the mere hypothetical of Kanaya hurting her in her blind rage was too much to bear. 

Aradia was… soft. Kanaya had a thing for soft girls. They were pretty, and warm – not… not Rose though, no, Rose had chilled hands all the time, chilled feet she liked to put on Kanaya’s legs while they slept – and lovely to look at. 

Aradia was fragile, too. Not emotionally, or mentally, but physically… Physically Kanaya was far stronger and it wouldn't take too much to break her.

She couldn't even think that without having her stomach churn and twist in ugly despair.

“Except, for trolls it does,” Aradia argued, smug to the bone. “And I am the one who will calm her down. Because Kanaya asked me to be the one to take care of her like this.” 

“Well,” the doctor said, all arguments trapped under her slurring tongue, the liters of alcohol poisoning her system.

Kanaya hadn't seen Rose like that, not in this peculiar iteration of herself and Rose, but she knew it had happened, to some of them.  
She hated it. 

“Well! That's stupid,” the woman finally managed to say, hurling the empty glass on the ground. It shattered and Kanaya picked up the scent of salty, sweet blood. 

It was the thing of a moment. A heartbeat, a blink. No more than that.  
Aradia yelped and then the Doctor did too, and Kanaya was drinking in long gulps, her taste buds singing in pleasure, her fangs buried deep in layers of skin and soft muscle. 

There was nothing but the rage, the feeling of squeezing and putting holes in a living creature.  
There was nothing but the taste of blood flooding her mouth, overstimulating all her senses. 

She was hungry, and she was feeding and it was primal and perfect and she didn’t need to think about it. 

Kanaya hissed as a warm hand touched her face, soft and gentle and completely opposite to what she wanted to feel.  
She wanted to keep drinking until the life slipped out of her prey’s body. 

Her fury was nothing if not justified.  
The Doctor was careless and she had hurt her moirail – unwittingly, not her fault not her fault not her fault. But Kanaya was tired of taking away the blame from people who deserved it. She had spent all her life doing that and it had never been the right choice. Just the kinder one. She was done being kind. 

“Shh, babe,” Aradia was murmuring at her, trying to pry Kanaya away from the Doctor. She had a smile on her face brighter than Alternia’s sun, and reddish tears in her eyes.  
Her blood had the sweetest scent, and Kanaya wanted to lap it clean of her skin even if her belly was so full she could explode. 

She let the Doctor fall to the ground and she whimpered under her moirail’s hands. 

Or maybe it was the Doctor who whimpered.  
Kanaya didn’t care, she just cuddled closer to Aradia, sapping her warmth and burying her nose next to the girl’s pulse. The flow of her blood was everything.  
Kanaya grazed her teeth on the skin, a drop of rust falling on her tongue. 

“Baby…” Aradia whispered, fingers running through Kanaya’s hair, rubbing the base of her horns. “Kan, no. No more biting. Shush, shh. It's okay,” she cooed, her other hand gripping Kanaya’s side, arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight, as if wanting to put all her pieces back together.  
And in that moment, with her mind swirling and high off poisoned blood, Kanaya thought Aradia might as well be able to do just that. 

°°°

“You almost killed my mom,” Dave accused her. His voice was quiet even if it shouldn’t have been.  
Not too long ago he would have been screeching for something like that.  
He would have been… different.  
But Karkat was gone and the distance was hurting everyone. 

Kanaya missed him, sometimes. When she had her mind tranquil enough to think about anything that wasn’t roseroseroserose. 

“She hurt Aradia, Dave,” Kanaya said, and she sounded just as put together as he did, except she also felt it.  
Rose was close. Rose was just a hair away, and no one could really stop her from going after her wife.  
She just needed to move past Dave and collect Calliope.  
“She hurt my moirail.” 

“Mom would never,” he argued, and Kanaya understood him. Ancestors were hard to blame for anything.  
She had to look no further than at herself. She idolized the Dolorosa. And that… that was something she had to think long and deeply about. 

Dave ought to think about his ancestors and his feelings about them too. 

“But she did.”  
Aradia huffed at her side.  
She wasn’t yet the same Aradia who had intervened in the fight, no. But she was the one who had spent the following three hours in the pile with Kanaya, calming her down to mush and soft, pained feelings.

She was the one who Kanaya couldn’t let go for even a second. She needed Aradia next to her. Now more than ever. And if this was… if it was abusive or wrong or… well, Kanaya didn’t know what she would do then. She supposed she would let Aradia decide what was too much and what she couldn’t take.  
Yes, that was an appropriate way to deal with things. 

“She didn't, actually,” her moirail argued, and there was a small smile on her face as she squeezed Kanaya’s fingers in hers. “Kanaya was on edge and looking for a reason to snap.”

“For very good reasons. She was blocking me from rescuing my wife,” she said, and the bitterness was still like new in her mouth. She looked at Dave, accusations wanting to roll down her tongue. Instead she said, vicious and venomous, “You know, your sister.”

“Rose is a big girl who can see the future. Do you think she would be gone now if she didn’t want to be?” Dave said, shrugging his shoulders. Kanaya wanted to hurt him, too. Not because she was really angry with him, maybe because the stress bearing her down was getting too much to suffer. Or maybe because fighting was easier.

It was hard, being a good friend in times of war. It was hard maintaining healthy relationships when she was this stressed out.  
But for Dave… For Dave she could try, at least. 

She breathed through her nose and let a bit of her weight be supported by Aradia, faithfully at her side. 

“She wants to please her mother more than she cares about her own safety,” she mumbled, somehow it sounded like an apology, and Dave took it with both hands, his shoulders relaxing a fraction, his heartbeat slowing to a normal tempo.

“Like… she's getting better, you know?” he mumbled, and Kanaya didn’t know if he was talking about his mother or his sister or both at the same time. “All of us are getting better.” 

Except for those who weren't, really.  
Dirk and Dirk and maybe some other Dirk too. They weren’t getting better at all. Kanaya didn’t know how to feel about Dirk. For the most time she didn’t feel anything at all. And when Rose was pining after her brother she felt angry, furious at him for hurting her wife.

And when the consequences of his actions, all Dirks’ actions, came back to bit their collective ass she felt irritated, but it was always a soft kind of emotion. A pale impression of real feelings.  
Kanaya didn’t care about Dirk. His betrayal hadn’t hurt her directly.

And it didn’t matter. She was wasting time thinking about people who weren’t important.  
She needed to take Calliope and go.

Where was the Cherub, anyway? Was she being held hostage too? Did someone stall her? Why wasn’t she here? 

“We're getting better,” Dave repeated, and Kanaya looked at him, seeing him with extreme clarity. His fear/anger/confusion/pain/loneliness were stark white against the dimness of the brooding caverns, and for one moment the two of them were the same. 

“We will all be even better when Rose and Roxy come back,” Aradia said and the excitement in her voice was the fakest thing Kanaya had ever heard. 

If she had had less important business to attend to, she would have gotten her moirail in the pile and she would have papped her to near unconsciousness.  
But she had more important things to do. 

She would do that later. When Rose and Roxy were back with them. 

She could already imagine it, taste the conciliation in the air, the peacefulness, the tears that oftentimes escaped from Aradia’s eyes when Kanaya did a very good job. 

And she always did a good job. 

She could already hear the soft sighs and feel the coarse hair between her fingers. 

It was an overwhelming feeling, putting someone under when there were no threats around, when there was no rage to pacify.  
And Kanaya loved it. It was weird and unusual and probably kinky, too. Conciliating someone when they were already calm was… not unheard of, no, but it wasn’t exactly seen in the best of lights either. 

As far as kinks went, though, that wasn’t even one of the weirdest Kanaya had, honestly. 

Just thinking about that other one desire she had did ugly things to her heart. It made her want to claw her skin off. It made her nauseous and angry and her self-loathing was never stronger than when she imagined humans hands papping her face, caressing her horns, human lips soft on her own, warm like flames. 

(She had the best moirail ever, and she loved her, and their relationship was slowly getting better. She wouldn’t destroy everything because she was a freak who wanted too much.)

“You okay, babe?” Aradia asked, and she was murmuring, stealing glances in Dave's way, so proper, all of a sudden. So bashful. 

“Yes,” Kanaya said, nodding mostly for her own sake. Yes she was okay, she was good. She would be even better when her wife was next to her. When she had her mind and heart too full to think of her… Desires. Maybe. Or stupid freaky kinks. 

Honestly! Why would she need a second moirail? Gods, just thinking it made her blush in shame. It was so sick and disgusting. She wasn’t even one of those hot headed trolls that actually needed a moirail in the first place. She was just an anxious mess. 

“You sure?” Aradia insisted, and eventually she must have made peace with herself and realized that being proper was less important than making sure Kanaya was alright. 

But not because Kanaya could have flipped her shit or anything. Kanaya wasn’t like that most of the times. Especially not with her friends. 

No. Aradia wanted to be her moirail because…  
Because what? Kanaya didn’t even know why Aradia wanted to be with her, and of course she couldn’t ask. What if she asked and Aradia realized there was no reason to be with her at all? What if… 

Ah, it was such a mess. Kanaya was a fucking mess. Her brain was a bitch and she hated it. 

“I'm fine,” she said, a sigh in her voice. She looked into Aradia’s worried eyes and found the warmth to smile for her sake. 

Aradia was… she was beautiful, and soft, and messy too. She was never rageful, never murderous, but she was plenty dangerous in her own ways. Kanaya was grateful to take care of her. To pacify her. 

Maybe it was better if she kept doing that. No more getting under. No more being shooshed. No more pats and paps to her head and face and horns.  
She would be the one doing that. Yeah, that was better. That made sense. 

“Are you troll flirting?” Dave asked, an eyebrow just a little bit raised, showing above his rad shades. “Should I cover my eyes, leave, whatever? Because Kar… um Karkat always blushes when we… yeah no, I’m not talking about him right now but… yeah.” His voice cracked there, in the middle. Just a bit. And Kanaya heard it. She felt the crack reverberating and hitting her too. 

They all missed Karkat. 

But she missed Rose more. 

And Rose wasn’t on a super secret mission on her own volition. Rose was a prisoner and she needed (okay maybe not needed, Rose rarely needed anything at all,) to be rescued. 

* * *

Calliope didn’t want to wax poetics about Mother Lalonde, but it was almost impossible not to notice the poise, the grace the woman had imbued into herself. The perfect shape of her mouth, her dark eyes, the flawless fall of her hair, a frame for her beautiful face.  
It was disturbingly hard not to notice how breathtaking the woman was.  
And there was something of Roxy in her, something not so easily recognizable. It wasn’t the shape of her nose or the slope of her forehead or the trim of her eyebrows. It ran deeper than that, deeper than features. It was in the invisible but present smirk, in the false patience in her eyes, in the condescending cut of her lips.  
There were some of Roxy’s harsher imperfections in the woman, and Calliope… Calliope was weaker in front of those, for they belonged to the girl she loved, but she was also stronger for she knew them well, she could deal with them. She had had a lot of experience. 

“Tell me you don’t believe what I’m saying and I’ll let you have this… how to say… adventure. With my daughter’s life on the line. I hope you realize what you’re asking of me, Calliope. You are a smart girl.”

Calliope was a smart girl indeed. Smart enough to see through such manipulations. Not that she hadn’t expected those. Mother Lalonde, not unlike her ectoclone, was a mistress of manipulation, spinning webs and knitting stories that fit a narrative she loved, a narrative that let her be the hero time and time again.  
The Rose Calliope knew was worse at it and better as a person in result, but she still dabbled in it, and Calliope knew those tactics enough to scoff at the woman in front of her. 

“I would like to remind you that your machinations are t blame for the presence of Roxy’s life on the line. You decided to hand her off to the enemy, not me.”

“You don’t trust me, do you, Calliope? You don’t trust my powers and my insight,” Mother Lalonde said, her lips still curled in that smile that Calliope had already seen too much in her life. A mockery without words. Angry and bitter and patronizing. 

“Can’t say I do, Rose.”

The lady raised her fine eyebrow at Calliope. “How sad,” she said tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the table. 

Calliope had never looked at her, or at any other adult in the brooding caverns, as the enemy. Never once in her life. They were imposing figures, distant figures. Silhouettes of real people she loved, or at least knew. But in that moment, as Mother Lalonde stared her down as if ready to break her, she started to question the wisdom in looking at her just like a faraway leader. 

“She is safer where I put her. You can trust that or you can risk her life. The choice is yours. I’m a firm believer of the benefits of perceived free will, even if I, myself, am an Incompatibilist, of course. Metaphysical determinism is just so comfortable a concept. Really takes the edge off hard decisions.”

“You’re purposefully using words you assume I don’t understand to make me curious as to their meaning so you can distract me from the very real and very important matter at hand, Rose. Don’t think your daughter and clone don’t employ the exact same tactics,” Calliope said, rolling her eyes at the woman. As pathetic an attempt as that was, it still pissed Calliope off. “As it is, it doesn’t surprise me that you would follow any philosophy that helps you take the edge off your decisions. Considering how gray your morality is.”

“Find me a soldier whose morality is anything but,” the woman spat out and for the barest of moments her perfectly tailored mask slipped from her face, the resentment underneath as ugly and real as the hurt in Calliope’s chest the moment she had realized Roxy was gone. 

There was some sort of sick, satisfied vindication in having her suffer. A bitterness and resentment Calliope had sworn she would abandon the moment she separated from her brother. Alas, it seemed some evil feelings had stayed, festering in her anxieties and worries and doubling down in her anger.  
She would deal with them like she deal with most unsavory things… Ignoring them until it wasn’t possible anymore, or until someone (read: Roxy) forced her to confront them. 

“Let's put the snark aside for a moment,” Mother Lalonde said, and she had already collected herself. “You need to stop being emotional and start seeing the truth. Roxy is much safer where I put her,” she repeated, and Calliope, with all the patience she could muster, did not snap at the woman's throat.  
It would have been cathartic to hurt her but it would have accomplished nothing bar from making Roxy sad. 

“I do not trust that. At all. It's preposterous and I suspect you're selling this justification because the real reason you sold her out is much much uglier than a mother's worry.” Calliope had had her suspicions for a while. Mother Lalonde was known for her dabbling in dark arts. She communed with Horrors and Nightmares. She always had an ulterior motif behind every action. “The question is, what are you trying to hide?” 

The woman was still, marble covered in silver dust. It was long seconds before her smile reappeared, pulling her lips and turning her face in a thing Calliope was familiar with.  
“You fancy yourself an expert on me, don’t you? A veritable Lalonde Loremaster?” she said, giving a low rumble of a laugh. “Calliope, sweetheart, you vain, vain child. You know just about shit fuck about me, or my clone, or even my daughter. I love Roxy. That's what I'm hiding. I love my kid and I want her to be safe. I want her next to someone who can protect her. I want her under surveillance twenty-four fucking seven. And you can't offer any of that.”

It was only the very familiar revving of an engine sounding just outside the room that kept Calliope from the pain of the woman’s accusation and the subsequent anger. 

The door, rickety and a little bit wrong like all the doors in the brooding caverns, could only give out under the angry teeth of Kanaya’s chainsaw.

Dave stepped in the room first, swatting splinters off his clothes and looking thoroughly pleased with his entrance. It was, in Calliope’s opinion, just the right amount of overdramatic and badass to fit his carefully crafted persona. 

“I hope we're not interrupting anything,” he said, looking towards Calliope. He didn't smile, because he never smiled lately, but his face was soft and the slope of his shoulders relaxed. 

“Dave. This doesn't concern you,” Mother Lalonde chided, stiffening in her chair and looking towards her quasi brother. 

“No I think it does.” As he spoke, Kanaya and Aradia followed him inside, one looking frantically around the room and the other inspecting the broken door with a red flush on her face. 

“Oh,” Kanaya mumbled, returning the chainsaw in its lipstick form and putting it in one of the many hidden pockets of her dress. “I thought I would find a bloodbath, honestly.” 

“Not everyone gets murderous fits, Naya,” Dave scolded her, and Calliope was almost sure he rolled his eyes behind the shades. 

“I hope you didn't actually murder my sister,” Mother Lalonde said, and there was exactly zero point one percent honest worry in her voice. She knew perfectly well her sister was alright. Whether because she has Seen all of this unfolding or because she and the Doctor had somehow kept in contact, Calliope didn't know. 

“A lady can fantasize,” Kanaya spit out, her eyes refusing to look in the woman’s direction. Calliope understood that. The clenching in her chest whenever she laid a glance on Doctor Lalonde. The stinging in her throat, prelude to an hour or two spent hiding in her room crying her heart out. 

“Kanaya,” the woman started, her tone a mixture of fondness and reproach, “Don't be like that. You and Calliope are both being irrational about this whole situation. The codependency of your respective relationship doesn’t surprise me, but it is certainly a red flag. If you take a moment to think it through, you will realize that not being able to hold onto reason when your girls are away is unhealthy.” 

“Come off it, Rose,” Dave spat out, crossing his arms. “Being worried because you gave them to the enemy is not the same as being codependent.” 

“How would you know, Dave? Since your boy left you've been a ghost of yourself. It's pretty clear to me that you all have the same problem. Except, maybe, for Aradia. Do you think the girls are having as much troubles as you do? Do you think Karkat is wasting his time being morose because he can't spend every single second of his existence beside you?” she needled, leaning forward in her chair, looking at each of them in turn. 

“Of course they do,” Calliope found herself saying. “Maybe not Karkat since he's on a mission, but Roxy and Rose want to come home.”  
It was hard, almost impossible, to imagine anything different.  
Sure, it was a difficult time for Roxy, and maybe the situation was helping her keep her mind off uglier things, but Calliope was sure she wanted to come back.  
And Rose… obviously Rose wanted to be near her wife. 

“We already proved you are no expert of the Lalonde mind, Calliope.”

“I know my friends. I know Roxy.” 

“I wouldn't want to be here. Look at what kind of life my clone has,” the woman said, gesturing to the room. “Clingy brother, clingy wife, clingy wife’s girlfriend. Do you have any idea of how suffocating this must be for her? Where she is now, at least she has some freedom.” 

The next minute happened too quickly.  
Kanaya’s eyes had been steadily and surely turning red, her hands clenching until jade blood dripped down her palms.  
There was something to be said about Calliopes impeccable reflexed. She jumped in front of Mother Lalonde. Not out of any misplaced loyalty for the woman, but perhaps because she really believed the difficult love binding her to Roxy. 

Kanaya’s nails were long and sharp like blades. They didn't hurt on the way in, not nearly as much as Calliope had prepared herself for. The slipped in her stomach like she was made of butter, the girl's fingertips getting all messy and lime-tinted. 

At her back, Mother Lalonde had conjured her needlewands. Both of them rested against Calliopes neck of the shortest of moments. The woman let out a tiny gasp as realization hit her.  
But realization hit Calliope too, and Dave and Aradia.  
Mother Lalonde would have use her very deadly, very powerful weapon on Kanaya. No hesitation. 

Dave and Aradia moved, then. A sobriety to them that Calliope had never witnessed before.  
The pain, underwhelming as it was, was building up, putting every smallest detail in sharp contrast.  
The ticking of clocks was the first and most important thing Calliope could hear. 

“Put them away,” Dave was saying, and he was close. Very close to Calliope’s side. So close she could hold onto his arm. So close she could turn her head a little, see the broken sword in his hands, the jagged edges pointing towards Mother Lalonde. 

“Defending myself from a feral troll is no crime, Dave.”

“Put. Them. Away.”

The needle points left Calliope’s neck, a small miracle. A wave of non-pain washed over her. The counterpoint to her bleeding stomach left her and she stumbled forward, burying Kanaya’s fingers into her flesh. 

The girl whined, a sob making its way out of her throat, and she looked into Calliope’s eyes. 

“It's okay,” she reassured, trying to smile. Blood flooded her mouth, slipping from between her fangs, no lips to keep it inside. 

“I-I'm I'm so sorry,” Kanaya mouthed, no voice coming out of her. She was trembling like leaves in the wind, eyes terrifyingly wide.  
It was doing bad things to Calliope’s wound, honestly.

Aradia approached them, meeting her eyes over Kanaya’s back and giving her a reassuring, composed nod.  
Calliope tried her best to reciprocate. 

“Kanaya,” the girl called out, soft voice full of reassurances. “Babe… you have to-to get, uh, out of Callie, now. So we can do some damage control.” 

“No, no, no she'll bleed out. She’ll die, please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me kill her, please. I’m so sorry. Please,” Kanaya babbled, tears finally breaking out of her eyes to streak down her cheeks. 

“Shh, shh babe, it's okay,” Aradia whispered, looking at Calliope every few seconds. She took Kanaya’s wrist in her hand, drawing circles on it with her thumb. Calliope could feel the air move against her wound. It wasn't nearly as nice as it sounded. 

Behind her, Dave was spewing venom at Mother Lalonde, and for the first time since Karkat had left, his voice held trace of true emotion. None of that affected for the ironies bullshit he did. And it was for Calliope.  
Her hearts clenched tight, warmth spreading through her as she realized, without any hint of doubt, that her friends loved her just as much as she loved them. And no matter Mother Lalonde’s harsh words, no matter the paranoia and anxiety, surely Roxy loved her too. 

“Callie,” Aradia called her, one of her hot, hot hands on Calliopes shoulder. “I'm going to pull her hand out,” she said, gulping down the same fear Calliope herself felt. She nodded, a permission even if none was required. 

On the way out it felt exactly as painful as Calliope had thought it would. Maybe even more so.  
Her vision blackened out for a moment. Maybe more. At every blink of her eyes the scene in front of her changed. First it was Aradia, a focused frown on her face. Then it was Dave, white bandages in his hands. Then the ceiling of the room, voices overlaying each other out of her field of vision.  
She closed her eyes.

° ° °

The sunlight felt amazing.  
If she focused on that and nothing else, she could almost define the moment as good.

Just outside the Brooding Caverns there was this big, wild forest. Not a thing born out of Alternia, for sure. It was lush and glorious, perfect to hide, perfect to stall, perfect to rest and catch their breaths for a moment. 

Calliope buried her nails in thee grass beneath her, soil staining her fingers. 

On her left, Dave was breathing deep and slow and his calmness had never been more forced. 

“Now what?” Aradia asked, carving a path in the fallen leaves, her steps loud and distracting. 

“Now we all take a very deep breath and get our asses in gear and get moving,” Dave said.  
Calliope sighed, looked up in foliage, the light filtering through the leaves and flirting with her skin, offering the barest of warmth. It was nice.  
She could have slept like that. It would have been very easy, to close her eyes and ignore the tension surrounding them. Let the wind and the rustling of the forest lull her into dreams. 

“Callie can't move,” Kanaya mumbled, her hand was cold where she touched Calliope’s head, but it wasn't too bad. 

“Cherubs heal quickly. She'll be fine soon,” Dave said. “We take turns carrying her and we stop often. It's better than staying put.” 

“I can go first,” Aradia offered, and she finally joined them on the ground. She pushed Calliope’s shirt up, prodding around the wound, fixing the bandages. “You did a good job,” she praised.

“Years of experience,” Dave hissed and Calliope was sure he throw the girl a scathing look. “We should go,” he added, getting on his feet. Calliope tried to follow but Kanaya kept her on the ground, hands on her shoulders. 

“Isn't it a bit soon?” the jadeblood asked, biting her lip. Calliope was transfixed by the way her fangs mauled the black, soft flesh.

“No. No we should really go. Now,” Dave insisted, taking Calliope’s arms and pulling her up. “Are you okay?” he asked in the softest of whispers. Calliope nodded at him.  
Getting on Aradia’s back wasn't easy, nor painless, and for a moment Calliope feared she wouldn't be able to. 

“Let's go!” Dave said, and now the franticness in his voice was obvious. 

As she finally managed to climb up, Calliope heard it. An ascending, insistent pinging.  
Almost like a siren.

“Shit,” Aradia said, her hands clamping under Calliope’s thigh to keep her still. She looked at the others and started to run.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty late where I am and I'm beat, so if there are some mistakes I did't catch, let me know!

There was this song on the radio. It was upbeat and kind of synthpop-ish and Roxy was fairly sure she had heard it before. Maybe it was one of those song Callie loved. Or maybe one of Dave’s favorites. Or even one of Rose’s, but that wasn't the point. 

It wasn't that the song reminded her of home or something. For one thing, because the caverns had never been home to her in the visceral sense of the word. For another, because she wasn't thinking about home (her family, her fiancee, her friends) at all.   
It was just a cheery song about love. And Roxy was trying to dance to it, if bouncing her leg and kinda swaying her hips to the beat was to be considered dancing.   
And not even that was the point, no. 

The point was… Roxy wasn't dancing alone.  
Roxy wasn't alone. And she wasn't dancing in the living room either. 

“Huh,” she said, patting the walls around her. The room was small. A closet, probably.  
Still big enough to host her and the other person she was so not going to acknowledge.

“Huh-uh,” the person ( _thing, figment of her imagination, not rea **lnotreal**_ ) echoed her.   
Roxy felt the door and pushed it open.  
She didn't as much recognize the room she was in as she supposed it was Jane's bedroom.   
Light blue duvets and red carpets and a plethora of hats and bow-ties littered on every surface.   
Some recipes books here and there, a spare pair of glasses, rounded and sharply wired in fiery red metal.

“So…” the thing she was ignoring said, brushing its shoulder against hers.   
Her skin broke in goosebumps and she sidestepped, getting closer to the bed. A king size, tall and heavenly-looking. She could definitely sleep for a good twelve hours straight in such a bed. 

“Okay, are you going to ignore me forever?”   
Roxy bit through her lower lip and pondered the merits of invading Jane's bed. Conquer it for herself and banish its rightful owner to another room.   
“Rox, come on.”

Nah, her bed was comfy enough, she decided. She could hear the last notes of a song coming from the radio she had indeed left on downstairs. It wasn’t the same chipper thing she had been dancing to. At the very least, five minutes had passed without her realizing it, then.   
“Roxy.” 

Her stomach clenched, the nausea coming back for a visit.   
Thankful as ever for the disgusting amount of money the Condesce – and subsequently one Jane Crocker – had, Roxy dove straight for the en-suite bathroom. 

“Are you okay?”   
Just for one second she raised her head from the toilet bowl and glared through her bangs at the thing. Directly into its eyes.  
She knew those eyes and it hurt all the more for it. It hurt like third degree burns hurt. A lot but not at all. A lot but in a numb, dull, unfeeling way. A lot but not as much as second degree burns hurt. Because those were still wounds on skin and flesh that were alive.   
There was a good metaphor to be drawn from all that, but Roxy didn’t want to let her brain think those words.   
Not yet.

“Yeah, stupid question. I get it. Rox, I'm just trying to- I don’t know. Connect? With you? Have a connection? Talk? Do you remember how we talked?”

Roxy narrowed her eyes, wiped the dribble on her chin with her sleeve and got on her feet. She got all up in its personal space, just for the briefest of instances. She stared so deep into its eyes she could almost definitely see its fakeness.   
She didn't speak to it. She would not encourage it more than she already had. But she looked hard and it must have understood what she meant by that, because it turned its eyes on the ground and gave a small nod.

Good. It was good. It was better like this.  
Onto more important things, she needed to brush her teeth, stat. Her mouth tasted like battery acid and death all rolled up in a neat package. 

° ° °

The most insufferable thing about being a prisoner was the loneliness. Hands down.   
Roxy could deal with a whole lot of shit, but an empty house with no one ( _no. One._ ) to speak to hit a little bit too close to home for her tastes.   
It felt like being back there. Stuck inside a hell made of memories of someone else. Escaping was impossible and ignoring it was impracticable.   
But at least, back there she had had… reassurances. She wouldn't have called it hope, exactly, because it wasn’t as much a hope as it was simply a thing. That was going to happen. Scheduled and planned down to the second.   
Back there she had been alone but she had had her friends to talk to. She had had this deadline breathing on her neck, the distraction of counting down the minutes until that magical, mythical time she would meet actual people in the actual, real flesh. 

Here, stuck in Jane's house and cut off from the world, she was truly alone for the first time in her life. She had absolutely no one.   
And, okay, Rose had assured her that it would all turn out rather nicely. Rose was never wrong and Roxy didn’t doubt her. It wasn’t that.   
It was just that… Rose dealt in futures and results and she never focused on the interim.   
Roxy very much focused on the interim. She loved the results, of course, but the journey was always more important than the destination.   
And this journey sucked. 

“Roxy,” the thing called her, its voice a mumble. ~~_He_~~ It had bitten its lower lip to a bloody mess and picked at its hands like… like someone else Roxy knew was wont to do that. “Please.” 

Roxy tried. She would swear it on her favorite everything in the entire world, she tried her best.   
It was just so pitiful. So pathetic. So heartbreakingly painful to watch.   
She couldn't stand it.   
And she was so lonely. What harm could it do, anyway?

It could only impact negatively on her mental health and possibly on her perception of reality. And both were already screwed to hell. And she had the extra reassurance, with both a Seer of Light and a Knight of Time as her siblings, that if she ever were to do something truly messed up or dangerous, someone would stop her in time. Or at least warn her about it. 

“What do you want from me?” she hissed, and already her throat was closing up and her eyes were stinging.   
She could have put the blame on the hormones, but she would have known it for the lie it was so why even bother?

“Just to talk. I just want to talk. Like we used to. We never talk anymore,” Dirk (whatever stupid iteration of him this was) said, picking at the skin of his knuckles, already red and angry. 

“You left us, Dirk! You up and left! What were we supposed to do? What do you want from me?” Roxy screamed, ferociously wiping at her cheeks, her eyes.   
She had always thought it would have made her feel better to scream at her dickhead of a brother, but it didn’t. It really, really didn’t.   
He was just standing there. Not even the right Dirk, but sharing his face down to the millimeter. Sharing his mannerisms, his voice, his weariness and sadness.   
Sharing his pitiful teary eyes. 

“I don't… I'm not sure. I don't want things. I don't want you to forgive me or anything like that. What he- what I- what we did was wrong. And we hurt you. And Rose, and D-dave. And we- I don't want you to forgive me. I just want to talk. If you are up to it.” 

“Do you know why he did it?” she asked.   
On one hand, she needed to know.  
The morning she had awoken to find Dirk gone was still one of the worst moments of her life, despite everything that had happened before and since then.   
There weren't that many people she was close to, honestly.   
Rose and Dave, her beloved siblings. Callie, the shining star of her days, the bright moon of her nights, the cutest lady she had ever met and the love of her life all in one tiny Cherub. Kanaya, the funniest, sassiest, prettiest and kindest being on the planet. Maybe Aradia too. 

And then there was Dirk. Or there had been Dirk.   
She couldn't describe what Dirk was to her. He was her brother, sure. Also her best friend ever.   
Also the person she trusted (had trusted, once upon a time) more than anyone else.  
Also the person she loved the hardest. Because loving Dirk Strider was a full time job with no days off. But the pay was amazing. It was in everyone of Dirk’s shitty excuses for a smile. In his loyalty (and how it hurt that she couldn't count that in the things that made him awesome anymore), in his protectiveness. In his care and attention and weird brand of tenderness. 

Roxy had thought she would always have Dirk on her side. Damn the world and the war and everything in the universe, but Dirk would have still been there for her.   
Maybe it was her fault for having too many expectations. For putting him on a pedestal no person deserved. 

Maybe she had misread his character all along.

Or maybe, like she wanted so bad to believe, there were higher motives behind his betrayal. 

“Yes,” the Dirk in front of her said, not lifting his gaze from the floor.   
Roxy sat down and listened.

° ° °

Jane had dark circles under her eyes. Not to say that it was in any way uncommon, but paired with her ashy, clammy skin and the tremors of her hands and shoulders, it did help in painting a fairly terrible picture, all considered. 

It had been a couple of days since their charming breakfast fight. Kerfuffle. Diatribe. Whatever.   
A couple of days since Roxy had said that thing. The thing she wasn't proud of. The thing that made her nauseous with shame.  
A couple of days since Jane had stared at her with her mouth half open and her eyes wide.   
A couple of very lonely days.

“She looks-” Dirk started, making shapes with his hands, face all scrunched up, “-nicely put together.” 

Roxy nodded. Jane was looking at her and giving no sign that she could see Dirk, only helping to prove that Roxy was going off to the deep end. She didn't want to seemingly talk to the void in front of her.

Jane heaved a long sigh, pulled her tie loose and unbuttoned her jacket.   
“Hi, Roxy,” she said, eventually, stepping out of her pumps and leaving them by the door. “Sorry for being AWOL. It's been a rough couple of days.” 

“I feel you, Janey. It's been mad rough in here. Also, we're out of cereals.” 

Jane sniffed hard and glared at Roxy. “You have not survived on cereal for three days straight.” 

Roxy rolled her eyes. “No, I didn't. Cereals are good breakfast food. Fibers. Proteins from the milk. Vitamins from the dried fruit. All that jazz. I've had large breakfasts. With cereals. And now they're gone.”   
Okay, maybe she had survived on cereals for three days.   
And maybe Jane didn't need to know that. Or maybe Jane had cameras installed in every corner of her house like the paranoid freak she was and she would know soon enough.   
Roxy didn't give a shit.   
Cereals were easy to eat and they never gave her the bad nausea. The kind that eggs did. The kind that almost all meat did. The kind that almost all salty food did, to be honest.  
She would spend all the pregnancy eating only sweet, dry foods if it helped keeping the worst of the symptoms away. 

“You could have asked anyone to go and pick them up for you.” Jane almost tore off the stockings clinging to her legs and threw them somewhere in the general direction of the living room. 

“There was no one.” Roxy followed her in the kitchen. The magical Jane-land. Her favorite place in the house. Maybe her favorite place ever. “Just me.” 

Jane looked up, hands busy in the sink, water hitting her skin. It must have been scorching hot, for her hands were turning a worrisome shade of red. “I'm sorry, Roxy. I had some things to take care of. This line of work is very-“

“I don't want to know,” Roxy interrupted, putting both her hands up to stop Jane from adding more.   
The nausea hit again, but it was a different kind. Uglier. More difficult to send away. 

Jane was the enemy.  
The. Enemy.  
And, okay, she was trying her best to take care of Roxy. Whatever.   
She was also her jailer. She was… she was not her friend anymore. The Jane Crocker in front of her was not the same Jane Crocker Roxy had loved in her childhood. 

This one was ruthless and scary and renowned for being a cold stone murderer. And a cold stone bitch, too. 

“Alright,” Jane mumbled. Silence, then. So common between them. It was becoming the third wheel to their every encounter. Or maybe their auspistice.

“I imagined her much, much worse, considering… well, you know.” Dirk was stepping around Jane in careful steps, observing her from every available perspective, not unlike a cat seeing a new human for the first time. “She doesn't have the-” he gestured to his head and Roxy shook her head, just a little. “Nice. Or maybe not. I guess now she is to be held responsible for everything she does, huh? No more mind control excuse. But she looks stable enough. It's been a while since I saw her last.” 

“Roxy, listen…” Jane started, her voice covering Dirk’s one for a few beats. Roxy decided to ignore her brother in favor of her captor. “I really need to get some sleep in me but... I'm really sorry for being away so long. Hopefully, it won't happen again. And tomorrow I'll go buy your cereals. And whatever else you need. Just… let's not fight right now. Please. I'm really, really tired.”

“I was not starting a fight. I don't want to know how many people you killed slash tortured today. That does not equal a fight in any way,” Roxy said, straightening her shoulders. Dirk shot her a weird glance, all confused and reproachful. Maybe. 

“You're right. Sorry. Have you had dinner yet? I'm afraid I really can't find the strength to cook but I could order take out for you. Only this once.” 

“No, no, I'm good. Have you eaten? You look in mightily bad shape, Jane.”   
And even more so now, all disheveled and sweaty and breathing heavily. She looked… yeah, Roxy didn’t want to find an adjective to describe her because all that came to her mind were one hundred percent inopportune options.   
But under the first glance feeling, she looked bad as hell.  
Sleep deprivation did that to people.

“I have… snacked on something. I'm not particularly hungry, if I have to be honest. I would rather go to bed. If you don't need anything?” 

“Just go before you fall down and hit your head on some corner or whatever. I've survived years without you babying me,” Roxy snapped, only half joking. 

“Careful,” Dirk said, still hovering around Jane. He had that expression he usually reserved for robots. Impatience and understanding and an appropriate amount of fear that something would explode in his face. 

Roxy frowned at him but did not look in his direction. Jane was looking at her. It would have been suspicious. 

“You're right,” her jailer said. She sighed again. “Goodnight, then.” She stalled, stood there, eyes half closed, swaying on her feet. 

“Roxy,” Dirk was saying, giving her an expectant look. His hands were really close to Jane's shoulders. 

“Night,” Roxy exhaled, in the end, taking pity on Jane. She left the kitchen with one last, perfectly clear look. He rolled his eyes at her. Roxy knew that. She recognized the signs of an eye roll, shades or not. But he followed her anyway, and that was the important part. 

* * *

Light was not merciful, or warm, or empathetic.   
Light was a cold master, clinical, cynical, indifferent.   
Light was what Rose had always known.   
And she knew, as the green static hurt her eyes and mind, that Light was twisting and turning under her skin.

She knew that a new vision was coming. That her Sight was coming to life, bringing pain along for the ride.

She was okay with that, with the pain and the fear and the visions. There was something that made her crave the attention of the Light. Its coldness reminded her of her mother. And her own struggles to be acknowledged and respected by it reminded her of times long gone, when everything she had always wanted was the attention of her guardian. 

Light, that was the opposite of Void, was the first thing she thought of when she thought of the woman who had raised her, so to speak. 

But Light, opposed to her mother, had chosen her willingly.

Here, with Rose still illuminated by the green, static-y light, a few things happened at once. One, Rose felt her previous vision (the thing she had built her entire next three years on) crack open and slip away. That alone might have been cause for a less than rational reaction. 

Two, the realization that she had no chance to contact a Time Hero hit her hard. Not soon, at least. Or maybe not ever, not anymore. Her knowledge of future events (the same she had held close and dear to her heart, the same one she had used to reassure Roxy that everything would be okay) had been rendered completely useless.   
There was no way for her to know if she was still on the alpha timeline.   
Again, a good reason to freak out. 

Three, a new vision was here, building like pressure behind her eyes.   
This, at least, was something Rose knew. Something she could deal with.   
She took a breath. Her knees hit the floor. 

She let her Sight open.

° ° °

Light had the shape of a song. A ray of the same sun that was its symbol.  
Light was a cool touch to her forehead, a chilly hand holding her by the back of her neck, making Rose not unlike a kitten held in the mouth of its mother. 

In the vision, the Light guided her by sounds like bell chimes and by visual clues.   
A lit up LED on a stereo, the only light in the room, and much brighter than it would have ever been in reality. 

It showed her Dave's room in the caverns. Empty and bereft of anything that had made it feel lived in.   
Gone were the CDs, the jars, the endless empty bottles of apple juice.   
Gone were the scattered romance novels Karkat constantly left around.

_This is now_ , said the Light, and Rose understood. She walked through the room, navigating the emptiness, the coldness of a dead space.   
She walked to the stereo, touched the LED. 

A dim lamp, bowed to illuminate a table. It showed her a pitiful room, it gave her the chance to listen in on angry voices. 

_This is now_ , said the Light, and Rose looked around, saw the Rose that wasn’t herself, saw Porrim, saw the Dave that wasn’t her brother.  
She saw her mom.

_This is now_ , said the Light, and Rose understood. 

This, Rose had known since before. This was a vision she had already had.   
And maybe Kankri looked in on the debate with colder eyes. Maybe Porrim had stiffer shoulders. But this was still the same.

Rose touched the lamp and stared until her mother's shape disappeared, Kanaya taking her place. 

Rose stopped, then, for more than was appropriate. The Light bit into the skin on her nape, screaming, compelling her to focus.   
It was impossible to ask her of it. Kanaya was right there. Hurting. Bleeding.  
Kanaya was… alone. And crying. And bleeding.

_This is important_ , said the Light, and Rose didn't want to listen. She didn't want that. She wanted the exact opposite of that. She wanted Kanaya safe.

_This is later_ , the Light said, and Rose sobbed.

A torch on the wall gave shapes to a cavern. Not the brooding caverns, no. A different one.   
And four cells were sitting one next to the other, in a pretty little line.   
Calliope and Kanaya and Aradia and Dave. 

_This is necessary_ , the Light said, Rose had to understand, but she also had to leave.   
She touched the torch, the flames playing on her fingers, caressing her skin with oxymoronic coldness. 

The scene did not change. 

_This is necessary. This, you have to understand_ , said the Light, and it was freezing.   
Rose sobbed, again. She said, _I know. I understand_ , but it wasn't enough.

_Accept this_ , the Light ordered, and Rose, hard as it was, with her heart breaking in a million pieces, accepted.

The flames consumed her.

_This is necessary_ , the Light repeated, before any shape could present themselves to Rose.  
She bit through her lower lip and she nodded. She said, _I'm ready_ , and she was holding an oil lamp. 

“What did you do to her!?” Karkat screeched. 

“Bro, seriously, calm down,” Dave said, but he was not draped all over his boyfriend like he should have been. 

Actually, no one was draped around their datemate(s) like they should have been. 

Kanaya was walking next to Roxy, who was hanging onto… Jane Crocker’s hand. Wasn't that a surprise.

Aradia was next to Calliope, eyes puffy like she had spent too long crying. 

Dave was next to Rose. His shadeless face illuminated by the oil lamp. He, too, had the face of someone who had cried.  
And with them walked Jade.

And walking with Karkat, Nepeta, of all people.   
Nepeta who had a black aura around her. Nepeta who looked more grimdark than sane, but who was cheery and bubbly like always.  
Nepeta who stank of death. 

_This is how it begins anew_ , the Light said, and Rose was hurting. 

“You ruined it!” Karkat screamed, hands flapping, angry like Rose had rarely seen him. Not simply fired up, not simply irritated. No. Angry. Truly irate. 

_This is how you have to be_ , said the Light, and Rose was scared. 

° ° °

Jade’s eyes were very green.   
Greener than they had been in their childhood. 

“I'm getting really tired of this, Lalonde.” 

“You only have yourself to blame, Harley. I warned you not to do that. What were you expecting to happen?” Rose hissed, pushing Jade away and sitting up. She had been moved on the couch, her head on a pillow that was just slightly bigger than it had been the last time Rose had checked. 

“Did you have a vision? Did I ruin your precious plans?” Jade taunted, letting herself be moved. 

“I need to speak to my brother.”   
She patted herself down, making sure that everything was still were it was supposed to be.   
There were no focal lights she had to focus on, no clues that this was a vision, still.  
No, this was reality. This was happening in real time.   
This was the present. The truth. 

“And I need three grands in plutonium but, you know, reality versus wishes,” Jade snapped, her arms crossed. “I was lead to believe you were the logical one amongst your batch.”

“And I was lead to believe you were smart but, you know, reality versus expectations.” Rose needed to meditate om her visions. She needed Jade out of the apartment as soon as possible, so she could focus on what she had seen, so she could follow every important step, make sure she stayed on the new path.   
But first of all, she needed to make sure this was the alpha timeline.  
She needed to make sure that she would follow the Light's instruction for a good reason. 

“You will have no contact with anyone bar me until whatever your mother is planning has been done, so sit your ass down and chill the fuck out because I don’t give a shit what kinda vision you had. You're going to stay here, possibly in silence, without making yourself a nuisance,” Jade growled.   
She was mostly posturing, as usual, but this time… oh, this time it grated on Rose’s nerves like never before.   
Having seen what she had, knowing what she did (Jade walking next to her, taking the place rightfully belonging to Kanaya, communing with _her brother_ ) she couldn't help the anger bubbling in her chest. 

“Very well. Just know this. One day, the Condesce will rescind the power she has bestowed upon you, Jade. And that day, when you will ask me for help, I will deny it.”

“I never need help,” Jade said, giving a rumbling laugh. “But nice threat. Very convincing. Now shut up and sleep it off. I need to gi to work and you need to recuperate. If my memory is right visions always make your pretty little head hurt.” 

Rose huffed, but she couldn't say Jade was wrong, even if she wanted to. Her head did hurt terribly. And she did want to sleep it off indeed. Even if she wanted to speak with Dave more. Even if she wanted to see Kanaya and make sure she was okay more. Even if she wanted all this shitty situation to end more. 

° ° °

The dream was becoming a recurring one.  
It was gentler than the visions, as in it didn’t compel Rose to move through painful sights, letting her have her agency instead.   
Even so, the constant distance she maintained from real life bothered her to no end. 

The Sight was one thing.   
She had been created to have it. She was made to dabble in the future and in possibilities. She was predisposed to share her reality with the knowledge of what steps to take to ensure the perfect result. 

These dreams were new. And worrisome. And so, so sad. Full to the brim with melancholia and loneliness. 

“Oh,” young Roxy said, spotting her amongst the shadows that saturated the dreamspace. “You came back.”

This wasn’t Derse. This wasn’t a parallel reality of feeble existence.  
This was the same empty space she had felt in her vision of Dave’s abandoned room. This was the reality of someone (her sister, but not. Her mother, but younger) that couldn’t leave a piece of themselves in the room they occupied.   
The reality of someone too detached. Or too desperate to attach. Or too incapable. 

“I did. I’m back,” Rose said, and she navigated the darkness. Shades clinging to her like tentacles. She had seen those, once. She had known those, in another life. 

She didn’t want them close to Roxy, to any Roxy.   
Roxy was too sweet to deserve them, too holy to touch them, too bright and too strong to need them.

The Light nudged her closer, fell heavy like a woolen blanket around young Roxy’s shoulders, and the girl shivered. 

“You really never see anyone? Ever?” Rose asked, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep the pity out of her voice. 

She had not had a shining example of normal childhood by any means, but at least she had had her friends. Her mom. Her Sight.  
The Light was cold, had always been, but it was easier to go through her daily life with it as her master.   
It had been easy to ignore the crippling loneliness preying on her, that visceral feeling of being too far away from people, reality, of being unreachable, knowing she would wake up one morning in the arms of a very beautiful, very kind woman who loved her with all her heart.   
Knowing she would have family around her, and friends, and a wife.  
A _wife_.   
And children. And a life worth living for. 

The Light was cold, but Void was worse.  
“I see her. Sometimes. She talks to me through the screens,” Roxy said, hunching down in on herself, cradling her head between her forearms, fingers crossed on the back of her head.   
She turned just enough to look Rose in the eyes. “She never comes in here. No one does. I've never seen another person like me in the flesh.” 

“Not even when you were a baby?”   
Rose tried to imagine that and her heart was beating out of tune.   
She had very few memories of her early childhood, but she remembered her mother holding onto her, carrying her on her hip, brushing her hair with her long, warm fingers.   
Contact. It was fundamental for children. And her mother had known and had provided it in spades. 

“I was never a baby, Rose,” Roxy said, pouting and shaking her head in small, fractured movements. Like a glitching picture on a screen.   
“The youngest I've ever been is ten years old.” 

Rose hummed, contemplating the pros and cons of sitting beside young Roxy.   
The last time she did it hadn't ended too well, but the girl looked so lost and so sad.  
And Rose, damn her, wanted to make her feel better. 

A Roxy was a Roxy, and she loved Roxys. (Some more than others, her brain supplied, and Rose ignored it because, honestly? Her brain had to fuck off, she loved her mom. Even if her mom was difficult to love.)

She huffed and she sat down, consequences be damned to hell. If Jade had to wake her from some death-inducing situation again, so be it. Rose was going to sit with Roxy and make her feel a little bit less awful. If she could.  
If nothing else, it was good training for when she would have to deal with her own kid. 

“Who made you? Do you know?” 

“No, I don’t. We covered this. I'm useless. I don't know shit fuck and even if I appreciate your efforts in helping me, your questions stress me out,” Roxy babbled, fists clenched against her shins.   
Rose, heart full with some kind of protective instinct, caressed circles in her taut back, wishing she could undo the years (Roxy must have been at least fourteen, at most seventeen) of tension etched in the muscles. 

“It's okay if you can't answer. I will stop asking, but if you come to know something- anything- just tell me. Whatever you know, even if you think it's stupid or… or useless.” She hoped her voice didn't sound too begging. 

For long moments they stood in silence. Around them, Rose could hear the familiar squelching of shadows twisting and turning. Had she been another kind of Hero, she would have shone brighter to keep them away. As a Seer, though… 

Seers were blessed with a tight bond with their Aspect, sure, but not with the ability to use it as they pleased.   
But Light, Light was sweet on her. Or maybe it was sweet on Roxy, and it did send the Horrorterrors away.  
_For now_ , it told Rose, and something in the way it said it made her realize that there was a lot more behind it. More than Roxy standing too close to the edge. More than the chance of something truly nefarious happening. 

“Okay,” Roxy said, eventually, but Rose barley heard her.

About prophecies: Rose didn't use the term lightly or at all, really, because they were such weird, ever-changing fragile little things.   
But the Light? It loved prophecies. It pointed them out to Rose at every chance it got.   
For the Light, a prophecy was nothing more than a “told you so”. A smug reminded that it knew better and more and almost everything.   
For Rose it held much more importance.   
She had never seen (or Seen, either) a prophecy unfold in her life.

This, in front of her, this scene with the Light turning the monsters away, and Roxy, young and alone in the darkness, shoulders tight and hunched down, this was the closest she had ever been to one. 

And Rose was scared.


	8. Intermission II: Moot Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update!! Depression is being a bitch. But, I have a few chapters all written that only need to be edited, so I hope I will find the strength to post more regularly for a while.   
> I think I will post one real chapter today, on top of the intermission so... 
> 
> Content warnings that I don't want to put in the main tags: minor pining, implied, past Solrezi (the pale variety), umm... I don't know what else, honestly.   
> Okay, to the intermission!

The Dolorosa putted around, leaving little cups of leaf juice in front of every chair at the table. She must have been ignoring the fact that there was only Terezi in the room.   
The jade mother liked to pretend everything was fine, always. Not unlike her Descendant. 

Thinking about Kanaya brought a sour taste in Terezi’s mouth and not even the tea washed it away.   
For one thing because the tea was disgusting and only helped in giving her a clenched stomach. And a burning tongue. For another, because she hadn’t said more than three words to Kanaya since forever ago. 

Okay, maybe Terezi and Kanaya hadn’t been as close as they used to be. She realized that. She also accepted some of the blame for that.   
But ignoring her? Leaving her behind? That was a dick move. A very big dick move. 

“Porrim,” a voice called. It was gold, sour in the way that made Terezi remember easier times and nights spent in the pile. “It’s okay, you can go to the coon, now.”

“No,” the Dolorosa snapped, folding paper towels in perfect triangles and putting them next to the cups. 

“It's morning,” the man insisted, his steps loud in the empty room. He was in front of Terezi, the large table between them. The Dolorosa whined and protested, but she was tired, Terezi could smell it on her skin.   
At the end of the night, even the Jade mother had to recognize the truth. There was nothing any of them could do. 

Not Terezi, that used to be friends with them, not the Dolorosa, who prided herself a guide for the young ones, not even Kankri, who was the one people listened to the most. 

“It’s going to be okay. You know these things always solve themselves. With time.” 

“We don’t have time,” Porrim argued, putting down the last towel with more force than necessary. Terezi’s cup trembled, clinking against its plate.   
She supposed she should have gone to sleep, too. It was late indeed. Her eyes stung with tiredness, her tongue felt weird in her mouth. Numb.

But sleep meant loneliness, and Terezi was already tired of feeling lonely. 

“Just go to sleep and trust that it will be okay,” the Ψiioniic said, pushing the Dolorosa out of the room, closing the door behind her.   
There must have been someone waiting for her in the corridor. No one, sane or otherwise, would have trusted the Dolorosa to get herself to the coon when she was so hyped up on worry and doubts and regrets. Virgos and their regrets, God... 

The Ψiioniic stared at Terezi for a while. Moments, not long enough to make it awkward, but Terezi could see how the conversation might have gone, where it might have ended.   
Amongst those options there were only two Terezi could accept, and one of them was so filthy and wrong she had to shame herself for wanting it. At least a little bit. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asked, sitting in the chair opposite from hers, fingers playing on the rim off his cup. 

“Not really,” Terezi said, even if her mind was screaming _Yes please, yes, yes yes yes_.   
Shame, what a cruel emotion. 

“Cool.” 

In the silence, she could hear his breathing, his nails against the ceramic, his foot tapping on the ground. 

“Do you?” Terezi found herself asking, as she started to imagine the beat of his heart. As she started to think about gold and mutated horns and psychic powers.   
She wondered how the others dealt with interacting with the counterparts of their (former or actual) partners. 

“Not with you, wiggler,” he said, smiling his stupid smile. 

“You know second pupation is coming up, right?” 

“Not for your caste, no. Aradia and Karkat and my descendant, maybe. But not you. Or Kanaya.”

Terezi supposed he was right enough and let the subject drop.  
  
Standing still and waiting was awkward, but moving was worse.   
She craved the comfort of her past. Easier times. Easier feelings. She used to be so confident. So sure of herself. 

She could have wondered where it all went to shit but she already knew.   
The day Feferi had been deployed to become )(eiress Apparent had marked the end of something that, if not good, had at least been comfortable.

Life in the brooding caverns was all but.   
Life, on this weird mash-up planet, was a mess of unresolved feelings. Most of them ugly. Most of them painful. 

And what pissed Terezi off the most was that she had no way to know if she had made the right choices. 

“Not to sound like Porrim, but— are you okay?” the Ψiioniic asked, his cheeks dusted with gold.   
Terezi took pity on him and on herself and she nodded. 

Distancing herself from her friends had been… a hard thing to do. But it had also been right.   
Connections were a strength and a weakness, and even if she wanted to be strong, she couldn't risk having a weak point.   
She had made that mistake already. Maybe not her as she was right now, but she did. 

“Terezi,” he started, fatigued and awkward and all in all familiar.   
Sollux had been the same, late in the morning.   
She fell asleep, sometimes, imagining his voice in her ears, his warm hands on her horns.   
“Do you think we did the wrong thing?” 

“What does it matter?” she asked back, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle the sighs that wanted out. “And it’s not like I would know, anyway.”

“You’re a Seer of Mind, Terezi.” 

“Like it means shit. You did what you did. Right or wrong, you still have to live with the consequences.”

The Ψiioniic rolled his eyes at her, and Terezi’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Okay, whatever,” she muttered, crossing her arms on the table and letting Mind flash behind her eyes. 

She never knew how much time passed while she lost herself in the visions, but it mustn't have been long, for Mituna wasn't looking bored or impatient at all when she came back to the present. 

“Let me just say, before I give you the answer to your very useless and very stupid question, that Mind doesn't care for wrong or right. They aren't quantifiable things,” Terezi said, clacking her nails on the wooden surface.   
“The rightness or wrongness depends on what result you wanted and on how you interpret the actual result you have.” 

“Interpret it for me, then,” he said, scoffing.

Terezi was hit by the memory of Sollux saying the exact same thing, in the exact same tone, the day she had broken up with him.   
She took a short, shaky breath, trying to push it out of her head.   
She knew that moment like the back of her own hand. She had relived that scene so many times in her life. She didn't need another show. 

“It wasn't the wrong thing, per se. But they did go at it the wrong way.”  
Oh, she thought, the irony of such a statement.   
She could have almost laughed at herself. She would have, if it didn't hurt so much. 

“How should they have gone at it?”

“Look, you don't need an affinity for Mind to know that keeping someone hostage isn't the best way to make them listen to you,” Terezi snapped. 

She wasn't a perfect example of morality, and many sources could confirm that, but even she could tell that the older Lalondes had made some big mistake.   
First of them all was giving their precious daughters away. They were useful resources for the war, and putting them in the hands of the Condesce’s most favored wasn't a good move, to put it simply.

Terezi understood their thinking, of course, because understanding people’s thinking was her business, but it was slippery at best and downright idiotic at worst. 

Their second mistake had been to alienate all the young ones in the caverns.   
Terezi was the last of them, and even she didn't feel a strong loyalty towards the human adults.   
Or any adult at all, except for the Ψiioniic and maybe the Sufferer.   
And that was more because her heart was weak for them, and not because they were such great leaders.

“It wasn't to make them listen,” he said, knuckles tight around the edge of the table. 

“I know. But them listening to any kind of explanation would have been the best possible result. There is no way they would have stayed, short of keeping Rose and Roxy here.” 

“So what should we do now? Will they come back?” 

“I don't think so. And I mean _I_ don't _think_ so. I didn't see anything about it, but if they are even a little bit smart they won't,” Terezi said, pursing her lips.   
The Ψiioniic hummed under his breath. 

“Sounds a bit treacherous. A bit against the war effort. I would advice you not to speak like that in front of Kankri,” he said, and he wasn’t smiling, no, but Terezi knew his ilk well enough to know he was amused. 

“I really hope the Sufferer has a plan b for the war ready to go, because I'm pretty sure we won't see any of them around the caverns for a long time.” 

And maybe… maybe she would leave too. There was very little here that could make her happy. Or accomplished.   
Terezi didn't have manias of grandeur, nor she had any dreams for her future that were worth following, but she did want something for herself.  
A Titlename. Something that fit like a glove. Something she could be proud to introduce herself as.   
As she was now, she would end up a Nameless, a no one, a speck on their fucked up world records. Not important, not even worth remembering. 

“If you're leaving, which I am not implying you will nor I will know anything about if you do,” Mituna drawled, his eyes stuck to her, “Now would be the best time to go.”

“If I were leaving,” Terezi murmured, “I would be thanking you for the advice, but I would also remind you to mind your own business, because advice such as the one you are giving me could be interpreted in many different, almost uniquely improper, ways.”  
She stood up, sniffed at him one last time. His gold was like Sollux’s but not entirely the same. His skin was liquorice where her (former) moirail’s had been silver. His eyes were a few shades darker, too.   
His smile, though, that smelled the same. 

Terezi bid him goodnight.


	9. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, second update of the day!!! I had forgotten how bothersom it is to format pesterlogs.... uuuugh  
> enjoy!!
> 
> EDIT: i also changed the title. this is for a good reason. promise  
> EDIT2: and the raiting. also for good reason

Jane didn’t know how long she had slept, she just knew she wasn’t tired anymore. Not in that bone deep way she had been after three days straight spent freaking out. 

The house was quite as she got ready for yet another day identical to all the others.  
Suit, shoes, brushing teeth, breakfast, make-up.

She didn’t bother waking Roxy up, considering how disastrous their last breakfast together had been, but she did leave something to eat in the microwave, a post it note attached to its door to inform Roxy that all she had to do was set the timer for forty seconds, almost crunching it up for the fifth time as she reminded herself that Roxy, as a genius of everything tech, did in fact know how to work a microwave. 

She hurried trough it, and the weight of what was going to happen was threatening to crush her. The sensation of being watched making the back of her neck rise in goosebumps.  
But it couldn't have been, because her house was free from every form of cameras that hadn't been hacked to keep the Condesce out.  
Just as a security measure, of course. 

Maybe she could ask Roxy to make sure of that though. Even if she realized that putting Roxy anywhere close to her security systems might be a very big mistake. 

She slapped herself on the forehead as hard as she could without leaving a mark. 

Jade was good with tech stuff too. And Jane might have not liked Jade much, but surely she could trust her not to make a mess of things. 

With one hand she typed out a message, with the other she wrote a note for herself to pick up Roxy’s cereals on the way home. 

She didn’t exactly approve, even if they were the least sugary and plastic-y she could find on the market, but Roxy did love them, and she was trying to make Roxy's stay the best possible one, considering the circumstances. 

Her phone buzzed.  
come by the network we'll see what I can do 

No smiley face. Jade was in one of her moods, then.  
Suddenly, the idea of seeing her had become even less appealing, and Jane cursed herself for adding this to her already tall pile of troubles.  
Whatever, she just had to suck it up. She needed to speak with Jade about Feferi's orders anyway. 

° ° °

The Skaianet Laboratories were immense. A gorgeous display of avant-guard architecture.  
Not like CrockerCorp and its traditional, brand-appropriate, look. 

Jane wouldn’t have minded working in the laboratories, she though, but sadly for her, she wasn’t the genius of her family. No. The title was reserved for Jade and her brilliant mind, her ruthless, endless thirst for scientific innovation and discovery. 

But even then, even if she was the dimmer ones between them, the people at the Network looked at her like she was the Condesce herself come to bless them with her terrifying presence.  
Jane supposed her fame preceded her, and she let her business persona take over. It was easier like that.

“How may I assist you, ma’am?” a little brown eyed troll stammered. He didn’t look complete. His skin black like the Condesce’s but soft, translucent.  
Jane kept the disgust behind her tight smile.

“My sister is expecting me,” she said, because it was true and because it was the fastest way to get past all the stupid tiers of bureaucracy.

“Of course, ma’am. Please, follow me.”

“Just tell me where she is, I know how to move around,” Jane said, tapping her foot twice on the carpeted floor.  
Carpets, honestly! She was very unimpressed with the decor. Such a beautiful shell with such distasteful contents.

“Y-yes, ma’am. It’s just that… that I don’t… that is, I don’t think I know where miss Harley is. At the present moment. Presumably the underground facilities but… and I don’t want to cause you to waste time. Ma’am,” the little thing stuttered. People were giving them looks. Jane knew those looks. The fear in them. The sadness of losing a coworker. And maybe said coworker was a stumbling mess, and awkward to booth, but he was surely innocent enough not to deserve to die at the hand of The Crocker Bitch. 

Jane glared at all of them, finding some compassion despite her facade.  
“I will look for her,” she said, and she didn’t sound kind, she couldn’t afford to, but she wasn’t pulling her fork in his stomach, either. That had to count for something. 

“Y-yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”

“No need to be sorry,” she dismissed him, stalking down to the elevators.  
People flushed their backs to the walls as soon as they realized she was coming their way, and Jane appreciated the quickness of their reflexes, their courtesy of leaving the road open and free.  
She told herself she didn’t mind people being afraid of her. It was part of her life. Someone had to take the rule of the ruthless CEO.

° ° °

Jade’s personal laboratory was a mess. Not that Jane expected differently.  
There were glasses and boxes and folders and all manners of unfinished experiments all around, making both the tables in the room unavailable, and many of the chairs, too.

Jane stepped over everything, poking her head in the utmost back of the room, where some kind of delicate machinery or another was whirring with an angry buzz.  
She found her sister there, crouched on the ground with two pens keeping her hair up on her head and another one in between her teeth, glasses reflecting the green light of the machine. 

“Gimme,” Jade said, not turning around, only extending her arm back towards Jane and showing her palm. “Come on, I don’t got all day, asshole.”

“Me neither,” Jane said. Jade sighed, and Jane had the bone deep suspicion that she was rolling her eyes. The arm she had extended fell to the ground and her knees creaked as she got on her feet. 

“I didn’t think you would be so early,” Jade said, an undercurrent of whining in her tone. She pushed some buttons on the machine and sighed again as it turned off with a sputtering of smoke. “This is completely ruined, so I hope you have a very good reason to be here. Other than your paranoia. Freak.”

“Insults aside, yes, I do have a good reason. Sorry for your… thing. Did you really have to turn it off?”

“Duh? I wouldn’t have turned it off If it wasn’t necessary. Are you actually stupid?”

“Jade,” Jane chided. The animosity was one thing, the stings about her paranoia were okay, she could take them. She also agreed with them, sometimes.  
But Jade was trading on thin ice with her foul attitude and filthy mouth. 

“Yeah, yeah. Mea culpa and all that. What are you here for, darling sister?” Jade pulled out the pens in her hair, letting the black mass cascade down her back, strands twisting around the frames of her glasses. She blew them out of her face, mostly unsuccessfully, cracked her knuckles. A routine, Jane supposed, considering the slowness of the movement. 

“I want you to see if my security cameras had been tampered with,” Jane said, moving the pile of folders from a chair and sitting down. Jade growled a little, in her throat, but she didn’t show teeth and Jane supposed she was in the clear. 

“I had guessed that already, I can’t quite do it without coming to your house, or wherever the operative center for said cameras is located, can I? What else do you want?”

“Feferi talked to you, didn’t she?” Jane asked. With Jade it was like that, usually. She didn’t deal in subtlety or in subtext. Blunt to the point of insensitivity and obtuse to the point of pretension.  
Jane knew it was pretension. She knew her sister liked to play with her. 

But this wasn’t a game and Jane hadn’t gone there to play. 

“Oh, that?” she barked out a laugh. Actually barked it out. Jane shivered, reminded herself that it didn’t matter how much percentage of dog there was in Jade. She was still her sister. “You were actually worried about that?”

“As I should,” Jane said, already damning herself for going to the Network in the first place, already with a headache that would accompany her for the rest of the day.  
It was barely nine o’clock and she craved her bed. The sweet, sweet, precious unconsciousness of sleep.

“Shit, Jane, don’t you think I would have done something bout that? You really have that little faith in your dearest sister?” Jade said, and her smile was terrible. All fangs and smugness.  
Jane damned herself twice as much.

“What did you do?”

“What anyone with some dignity left would have done, sis. I eliminated the problem. She should have known better than to threaten me, honestly. I mean, I do expect it from Lalonde, because, let’s be real, I wouldn’t actually kill her. But Feferi? I don’t give a shit about Feferi.”

“You… killed- You killed Feferi,” Jane whispered. It wasn’t a question. She didn’t need to question it when she could see her sister’s eyes. So proud of herself.

“You should have done it, if she came to you first. You always gave her too much credit. She’s a useless little bitch. Maybe the Condesce favors her, but who gives a fuck, right? The Condesce will deal. With. It. Just like you will.” She was suddenly too close, her breath too warm on Jane’s face, her fangs too sharp, too shiny. “You don’t wanna end up like her, do you?”

“Jade,” Jane started, but the vitriol didn’t came to her mouth, nor did the words she wanted to say. Maybe she didn’t have any, after all. It was such a… such a fucking… a thing she should have expected. No one messed with Jade without paying for it in spades. And Jane didn’t know why she had assumed that Feferi would be different. Why she had supposed that Jade would stop in front of their sister. (Adopted, sure, but still their sister. Their fucking sister. How could Jade do something like that? Did family mean nothing to her?)  
“Jade.”

“What?”

“Where is she?”

“Dunno. Somewhere around my island, I guess. If the tide didn’t pull her away. And let’s be real, it probably did. But she should be round there.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Jade laughed again, but it was rougher this time, it grated more. Uglier.  
“Don’t be stupid, sis. I put her there for a good reason. There’s no going in or out the island without my permission, you know that. No one will know. No one will come bothering us as long as she’s there.”

And of course she was right. Jade, despite being the most impulsive piece of shit Jane had ever had the displeasure to meet, always had everything thought out. Always had everything under control. 

But this time it wasn’t enough of an answer. Jane didn’t want to have an unbothered existence. She hadn’t signed up for one and she didn’t care for one.  
She wanted things neat and ordered, and that meant Feferi. That meant atoning for her mistakes. 

Not that she considered taking Roxy in an actual mistake, but still.

“Jade. Take me to the fucking island.” Her fist closed on the familiar handle of her fork, and Jade’s eyes shone brighter, greener, wronger. 

“Jane. I just fucking finished saying that I hate people threatening me, you stupid bitch.” A semi-automatic appeared in her hands, and it felt cold against Jane’s temple. Cold, but also reassuring, in a twisted way. 

“Take me to the island.”

“I won’t take you to the stupid island!” Jade screamed, a bark escaping her throat. “Why do you even care so much? She was a pathetic excuse for a sister and you didn’t even like her!”

“You pledged loyalty to the Condesce, and hurting her heiress is pretty much against that vow. Now. Take me to the island and I will pretend this never happened.”

“Like your word has any weight against my own. The Condesce doesn’t care about Feferi. No one cares about Feferi. She would be a shitty leader and no one gives a fuck if she’s gone. And you shouldn’t either.” She took a very deep and shaky breath and she looked at Jane with something like prayer in her bright eyes. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Jane. I really, really don’t wanna hurt you. Just leave.”

“Feferi is important to me. I can bring her back even if she’s dead, you know I can. Take me where she is and we can forget all about this,” Jane insisted, holding her fork tightly but not towards Jade. She understood her sister better than most, she supposed.  
Jade’s mind was forcibly torn between her sweet, loving and kind persona and the merciless, angry murdered the Condesce had turned her into.  
Jane knew that. She understood what it meant. 

But deep down… deep down she firmly believed she could appeal to Jade’s true essence. 

“Fuck,” her sister muttered under her breath, her hands flying towards Jane.  
She blinked and everything was black. Blinked again and she was sitting on the same chair she had occupied in Jade’s laboratory. Her own desk tidy and orderly in front of her, the room illuminated by the wide window at her back. 

“Fuck,” Jane echoed, but Jade couldn’t hear her. “Fuck.”  
There was only one thing she could do.  
No matter how much it hurt.

° ° °

crockerCeo [CC]  began pestering  golgothasTerror [GT]  at 9:17 

CC: Jake.  
CC: Hello.  
CC: Sorry for… everything, I guess. But for writing you in particular.  
CC: I need a favor, as you must have already guessed.  
CC: I don’t think you want the details, but I will give you a rundown, just for honesty’s sake.  
GT: *honesty*  
GT: I think you can well imagine the quote marks im using in my mind as I read that.   
CC: Yes, I can. I know… no, I can imagine how you feel about me, but the favor I ask of you is something very important to me.  
CC: Very, very, very important.  
GT: Let’s hear it, then.  
CC: Yes. You know how the )(eiress Apparent is my sister. And Jade’s sister.   
CC: And I guess you’ve been keeping up with the latest news? About the latest Lalondes being with us?  
GT: I might have heard something about that. Talk about unbelievable devilfuckery.   
GT: You still havent told me about this mysterious favor you need from me. Your reticence makes it more suspicious than anything.  
CC: I’m getting there Jake.  
GT: Just spit it out and get it done with. We aren’t all dilly-dallying, high and mighty blasted CEOs like you.  
GT: Some of us have a life to get back to.  
CC: Alright!  
CC: I need access to the island.  
CC: Because Feferi is there.  
CC: And I need to get her back. 

* * *

List of things Jade needed to do: one, create a fucking antiseptic that didn't hurt like bitch, because this was complete bullshit. It stung more than the wound itself. Jade didn't want to be subjected to this every time she – understandably – lost her calm and destroyed something. 

Maybe it was divine punishment.  
Ha ha, sure. 

“Is something wrong?” the so-called nurse asked, pulling fresh bandages taut around her knuckles. 

“I'm laughing,” Jade snapped, taking her hand away for a moment to test its mobility. Huh, good enough.  
The nurse glared at her just for the instant it took them to remember that she was, in fact, Jade Harley, and no one glared at Jade Harley and came out of it intact.  
Also, she was their boss. 

For once, Jade supposed she could me merciful. But only because they did a remarkable and quick job of her scrapes. 

She put her hand back in the nurse’s reach, letting them finish the job. 

One of Jade’s favorite experiments knocked on the open door.  
She looked both like a remarkable human and a very ruddy-skinned troll. If she had horns – and Jade knew she didn't because she had cut them off herself – they weren't visible. If she had fangs – and, again, Jade knew she didn't – they didn't poke out of her mouth. 

“Status report, ma’am,” she announced.  
She was a small thing, her growth stunted to hell, and Jade would have almost felt sorry for her if she wasn’t so fucking satisfied of the results. Her little messy hybrid. 

“The setback first,” Jade ordered, and if her voice was sweeter, both her little hybrid and the nurse gifted her with not noticing. 

“Three months on the bioarmor, plus two weeks of engineering for the new machine as the blueprint hasn't been found. A month an a half on the grubs. Splash damage on the accessories, setback of a week, but maybe more—”  
Jade nodded in silence as she rattled on. She made notes in her head of ways to push through the setback with minimum effort and maximum results.  
If she put everyone on a tight schedule… and maybe divided them in two groups of twelve hours each… yeah that would work. They could cut the time in half. 

“My Bec. How much damage?” she asked, interrupting the hybrid. She might have heard the word ‘Crocker’ but she didn't want to grace it with acknowledgment. 

“Umm, ma’am… I'm sorry but…”

“Just tell me,” Jade snapped. The nurse pushed her sleeve up to her shoulder and busied themself with taking glass pieces out of the cuts there. The stinging made it easier to keep her composure. 

“98 percent damage on the body. Almost none on the processors, but the setback is reaching the one year mark, ma’am,” her hybrid said, and her lower lip was trembling.  
Oh, how soft she was, Jade cooed in her head.  
Almost pathetically so. 

“Is it really unsalvageable?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright,” she said, resigning herself to the pangs in her chest. It was fine. She should have known that her little rage fit would cause some heavy damage.  
She only had herself to blame. And Jane. But Jane wouldn’t take the blame for it, anyway, and Jade actually didn’t want to hurt her.  
“Do we have a Time Hero on hand?” 

“Umm, no ma’am.”

“Strider? Is he still inactive?” Jade picked at the bandages on her hands while the nurse was too focused on other wounds to notice.  
They didn't impede movements, but they were bothersome anyway. Itchy. 

“Uncooperative, ma’am.”

“Okay. Okay, listen,” Jade started, irritation building up again. She kind of understood when real – a debatable adjective – people were uncooperative. Free will, life experiences, all that bullshit.  
But that one of her own experiments refused to do what she told it to was just too much of a slight.  
“Take all of the uncooperatives out. Put them in 717. I'll deal with them later.”

“Is the experiment…”

“Yeah. Cross it, I must have made a mistake somewhere. Schedule a retake for next month.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

° ° °

Laboratory 717 hadn't been used for at least two years. It wasn't dusty, even if it should have been. Some piece of shit or another took care to keep all the rooms squeaky clean, and Jade reckoned it ruined the moment quite a bit.

She counted six. Six out of eight marked a pretty big failure. A 75 percent failure.  
Jade reminded herself that science was built on mistakes and failures.  
It didn't make it sting less, though. Nor it untied the knot in her throat. 

“Last chance, kids. If some of you wants to start cooperating, now it's the damn right time,” she told them.  
Wasn't she the fucking poster child for mercy? If she had been any more alike the Condesce she would have simply slaughtered them, no words exchanged, no breath wasted. 

“Fuck off,” tiny Jade spat out. She was cute, standing in front of her friends with open arms, as if she could somehow protect them.  
It made real Jade almost want to keep her. 

“Okey dokey,” she said, drawing her pistol from her sylladex and pulling the trigger, all under a second.  
The little spitfire fell backwards on the chorus of her kiddie friends crying out.  
“So, anyone wants to stay alive?” 

“Shouldn't you be on our side?” Jake wiled, crouching down next to his sister, touching her face with shaking hands. He was cute too, and Jade didn't waver as she put a bullet in his head. 

“The only word that will keep you out of my aim is yes, kids. Anything else and you'll end up like them.  
Roxy opened her mouth and it wasn’t shaped like a yes, and she fell to the ground too.  
The other Lalonde was next.  
Jade took a great deal of pleasure in offing them, considering they were – albeit very loosely – one of the reasons her Bec experiment was fucked. Together with Jane and Feferi.

Dave and John were hugging each other, tear tracks down their chubby faces.  
“Fuck you,” said Dave.  
“Yes,” said John, and the betrayal in Strider’s eyes was even sweeter than the splatter of blood that came out of his head. 

“Good choice, kid,” Jade said, moving three steps forward to ruffle his hair.  
He wiped at his eyes with his hand, silently following Jade out of the laboratory. 

“Get someone to clean the mess in 717,” she ordered to the first person she met in the hallways.  
The troll boy had eyes too wide as he looked to John’s bloody shirt, the way he was clenching at Jade’s skirt with a death grip.  
“This is my good boy,” she said, a smile like a challenge. 

“Y-yes ma’am. Wh-what should we do with the- with the- the mess? In 717?” 

“Fuck if I care. Just clean it up.” Jade rolled her eyes at the troll and considered firing him. She hated weak-willed people so much. 

“Jade,” John whispered, and his voice was still wet and raspy from crying so much, but he didn't stutter. “Why?”

“Careful, John. You're still expendable,” Jade said, caressing his head, trading her fingers through his silky hair. She had made a good job of him. 

° ° °

“This is where you'll be staying. You stay quiet, you do as they tell you, and if someone hurts you but me, you tell me. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, Jade,” he said, his voice small and wispy.  
Jade sighed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the heavy blankets on the bed. If she remembered correctly – and she did – John liked to sleep with some weight pressing him down.  
He wasn’t a guest, nor he was a real person, but he still had her brother’s face, and Jade supposed she could have some leniency for him.  
Until she found a better use for him.

“And cheer up, John. If you're extra good I will make you some shiny new friends soon.” 

“You… what?” he stammered, stopping the wringing of his hands.  
Thank the gods, she was getting antsy just having to see that in her peripheral vision. 

“John. I know you're not stupid. Don't act like it.” 

“But… What?”

“Ah,” Jade sighed. Turning around and crouching in front of him. She held his face in her hands, squishing him. “You're not real, John. We both know that. You're a clone of a clone of a million other clones, and your continued existence depends on how little you piss me off, so shut the fuck up and don’t ask stupid questions, yeah? All clear?”  
He stared at her with wet eyes, his pupils small as pinheads. Jade gave him a shake. Not too strong.  
She hadn't went through the pain of sparing him just to snap his neck in a fit of irritation.  
Eventually, he focused his sight on her, lips thinned and pale. He nodded.  
“Good. Keep being good, baby bro.” she let him go all at once, forcing him to stumble to regain his footing. She ruffled his hair again, like she used to do to another John, in another life. “Now get your ass in bed and don’t make a peep. I'll check on you later.”

She surprised herself as she smacked a kiss on his little forehead, but she didn't stop to analyze it.  
It was instincts, most probably.  
He did have her brother’s face. And he was a little one. And she was half dog. The pack instinct was bound to show up in such circumstances.  
It was all good.  
All good. 

° ° °

“What a fucking mess,” Jade hissed, stepping around broken pieces of glass and torn paper bits.  
Scraps of machinery and pools of questionable liquids were all over her laboratory.

Oh, another thing to add to her list of things that she needed to do: create an anti-Crocker shield around the Network. Jane was never going to step inside her building again. Not in a billion years. Not if this was the result.  
And she could deal with her own paranoia by herself, too. Jade had literally no time to waste on her. 

“I called the clean up crew ten minutes ago. They should be here any moment,” her hybrid said. She was standing at the entrance of the lab, just like Jade had ordered. She didn’t need to have her best employee hurting herself. 

Jade hummed in response, too busy analyzing the losses to think of an adequate answer.  
Her auto-cloner was fucked in the ass. That was bad news.  
She needed her auto-cloner.  
“AC,” she said, voice loud enough for her hybrid to hear. She heard the scratching of pen on paper. “Priority 1.”  
If she didn’t have an auto-cloner, almost all of her experiments would take the triple amount of time to get done, and Jade couldn’t afford that much waste.  
Not only because the Condesce wanted results in the shortest span of time possible, but also because her own impatience was a bitch. 

“I need someone to reprint all this bullshit, too. But that’s priority 5 or lower. The blueprints, all we have on the net, are p2.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Should I send out the notice right now?” 

“No. Now I need you to jot down what needs to be done. Later you can send out all fucking notices you want,” Jade barked. “P1, someone to regularly feed the clone baby. In room 529.” 

“Yes , ma’am,” her hybrid said, writing that down. She was good at following orders. Jade liked her enough. 

“And I need to find a new room for the other two. Strider can stay anywhere, I don’t give a shit. But I want little Crocker as far as possible from John. Still in the same area though, I don't want to waste a fuckload of time whenever I have to work with them.”  
Jade picked up a waterlogged rag from the floor.  
Okay, maybe not waterlogged, but surely soggy to fucking hell.  
“Is this Bec blood?” she mumbled to herself, sniffing the rag. It did smell familiar, but that meant shit fuck when every experiment was bound to smell familiar to her.

“I want a sample of every liquid in here. P1. Tell clean up to take them,” she told her hybrid. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

It was going to be a long night. Or day. Jade didn't even know what time it was.  
“And tell someone to get me a coffee. Priority 0.”  
She didn't imagine the snicker her hybrid let out, and she found, in all the mess, a moment to smile.


End file.
